


Falling Apart Together

by caset290



Category: South Park
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Hatred, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicide, coming out gone wrong, these boys are pretty fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4695158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caset290/pseuds/caset290
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you get when you take two broken boys from two broken houses and throw them together? A sad excuse for a relationship, burdened by the weight of a dead lover, illegitimacy, abusive and neglective parents, addictions, an incurable curse, and large quantities of pure unadulterated sadness. Will it work out, or will both boys only suffer until an early death saves them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffin Dance

**Author's Note:**

> im gonna come right out and say this: this is going to be a pretty trigger filled story, so read at your own risk. I'll try to post warnings/where I got the chapter names/summaries from here too.
> 
> Chapter title/summary: Coffin Dance by Andrew Jackson Jihad  
> WARNINGS: suicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoot him again ‘cause I can see his soul dancing.  
> I’m gonna miss this place  
> I’m gonna miss its face  
> Just like a vein inside my heart.

It was becoming unbearable. The constant fighting during the day, the loud hate sex at night that could probably be heard by the other side of town. 

 

He needed out now and fast, but had no where to go.

He was stuck, trapped, in a bit of a pickle, whatever they were saying these days. All he knew is that his household situation was bad, and no help to his mental instabilities.

///

Nothing was enough anymore. His usual tactics to keep him whole were failing. His best way to escape the harsh reality that was his was through drinking until he was floating. It was getting high enough to touch the stars. He was falling apart at the seams, but was trying his hardest to ignore it. To hide it from everyone else. It would be too late to fix himself up by the time he got around to it.

* * *

 

"I'm gay."

" _What_?"

"I'm gay, Dad."

"No you're not, stop fucking with me."

"I'm not lying, why would I lie about this?"

"Because you're a little asshole, that's why."

"Thomas, calm down. Craig, I'm very proud of you, honey."

"Don't encourage him!"

"Why not? He's his own person and can be whatever he wants!"

"Not under this roof, he can't! My son will not be some queer-"

_"Then good thing he's not yours!"_

"Wh-"

"He- ....he's not your child, Thomas."

Those words hung thickly in the air, filling the room with tension. Craig couldn't breathe, Thomas looked like he was going to break something, Laura was gasping in tears after revealing such a well kept secret. No one said a word. The teenager looked between his parents, he was ready to take off out the door. To run out into the night and never come back, not even for his laptop that he loved so dearly. It was the only way he could cope with stress; running away. 

"You... Cheated on me? And had a  _kid_  without  _telling me_?"

"It was right before we got married. I- I was drunk! Thomas, please listen to me," Laura was sobbing now, "I couldn't get rid of it, I just couldn't!" The words pierced Craig's heart. It. He wasn't even human anymore, reduced to being an "it," a drunken mistake.

He couldn't speak. He couldn't move, he was caught in the middle of something much bigger than anticipated and didn't know what to do about it. 

"Get the hell out of this house," Thomas said icily to his son. No. Craig wasn't his son, he never was to begin with. "Pack a bag, and leave, Craig."

" _No_! You're not kicking him out for a mistake I made, and for something he can't control. What- what would Ruby think about all this?" Ruby was currently having a sleep over at the Broflovskis with Ike Broflovski and Karen McCormick, and was still babied by both parents despite being almost thirteen. Laura knew that it would stop Thomas from doing anything, it was obvious Ruby was his favorite child; it was justifiable now as she was his only child. Thomas, enraged and unable to picture his baby girl upset, stormed out of the house instead. He ignored his wife when she asked where he was going and slammed the door closed behind him.

The remaining Tuckers stood in an uncomfortable silence. Craig felt something drip off his cheek and realized he had been crying, his stoic wall broken in a million pieces. Laura turned to her son with puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks. "Honey, I'm so sorry," she whispered. She went to hug Craig, who was at least a foot taller than her. Craig, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with her. With anyone.

"Don't touch me," he pulled away from what he didn't realize would be the last loving embrace from either parent and went up the stairs to his room. The silent  _click_  told Laura Tucker her son wouldn't be out until Monday, when he would have to go to school. Today was Friday, Craig would be going a few days without eating again. Laura sighed in defeat, out of fatigue, and due to irritation.

Oh the hell that her poor family was about to go through.

* * *

 

"Shut the fuck your face," the middle McCormick slurred, obviously drunk and angry, at his older brother. "See you take your face," he steadied himself against a nearby wall, "and you shut the fuckit. Or if you want I can do that for you if you really want me to."

"Kenny, I didn't come all the way out to no mans fuckin' land to drag you back home for shits 'n giggles." Kevin said through clenched teeth. He'd be trying to bring his baby brother home for about an hour, now. But the blond insisted he stay.

"Fight me, Kevin." Kenny threw a weak punch, but Kevin grabbed his fist before it connected with anything.

"If you don't get in my fuckin truck in three seconds, I will beat the shit out of you."

"Is that a challenge?" Kenny could hear the sound of a fist connecting with his face and his world suddenly went black.

When Kenny came back around, he was laying against the window in Kevin's truck. They were stopped at a red light that appeared too bright to the blond boy. His head was pounding, and the familiar feeling of emptiness filled his soul once again. "Mornin' little bro," Kevin said too loudly. Cringing at the noise, Kenny sat up a little until he felt his stomach turn uncomfortably.

"Pulofer," he managed to warn Kevin before opening the door and emptying the contents of his stomach.

"I'm not gonna feel sorry for you, kid," Kevin broke the silence. Kenny sat back up and closed the door, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his parka. "You brought this on yourself an' you ain't getting pity from me."

"I never asked for your fucking pity," Kenny spat. "I know what I'm doing, and frankly I don't give a damn about who feels bad for me." Neither of the boys spoke after that. They sat together in a tense silence, Kenny's head still aching and the taste of vomit still lingering in his mouth. They finally returned home at about two-thirty in the morning, but yelling could be heard from the parents' room. It was never a dull moment in the McCormick household. Kenny looked around in confusion, a particular little girl should have run out by now, most likely in tears. "Where's Karen?" He asked.

"Well if you actually paid attention to your fucking surroundings from time to time, you'd know that she went to that Ike kid's place for the night," Kevin threw his keys on the kitchen counter and pulled out a beer from the fridge.

"I thought you didn't drink anymore."

"And I thought you were the good brother. I guess we were both wrong."

Kenny sighed. He used to be the good brother. Kevin usually was the one who disappeared randomly to get drunk off his ass, or to get high as a kite. Now their roles switched. He paused for a second, feeling his blood pulse in his temples. The pain combined with the sickening feeling of nothingness was becoming something unbearable. "Do you still keep your gun under your pillow, Kev?"

"Yeah, why?" The oldest McCormick looked at his little brother skeptically. He watched as the blond wandered off to his room mumbling how it was nothing and that he was going to bed. It was only seconds later when a gunshot rang through the house, through the entire town probably. Kevin's blood ran cold and he didn't even remember how he got to Kenny's bedroom, let alone how he ended up on the floor with his baby brother's limp body in his arms. "Sweet Jesus,  _Kenny_!" Their parents ran in, whatever they were fighting over long forgotten.

"My baby!" Carol McCormick cried out and collapsed onto the dirty carpet. "My ba-aby," she sobbed into her hands. Stuart said nothing, did nothing, felt nothing. His son was dead. Gone in a flash, with nothing left but his still warm body. Lifeless eyes looked up at nothing, into the void of the afterlife.

The McCormicks never even knew this was the third time this week Kenny had killed himself.


	2. Two-Headed Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two headed boy  
> All floating in glass  
> The sun it has passed  
> Now it's blacker than black  
> I can hear as you tap on your jar  
> I am listening to hear where you are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //posting early because I won't have time to Sunday probably. Don't expect this to happen often tbh
> 
> Chapter title/summary: Two-Headed Boy by Neutral Milk Hotel  
> Warnings: Self harm, suicide

Waking up freezing cold and in a puddle of your own urine was never fun. Nor was it an uncommon occurrence for Craig. Of course it wasn't as often as it used to be now that he was older, but it was never anything new. He hated himself for the fact that at seventeen, he still wet the bed. It was obviously unnatural, but he was too embarrassed to go see a doctor about it. He was too embarrassed to tell anyone about it. He stopped staying the night at his friends' houses to avoid any mishaps. As far as Craig's parents knew, he stopped peeing the bed when he was thirteen. All his accidents were taken care of by himself, and immediately. Craig stripped out of his pajamas and put on a different pair of sweatpants. He stripped his bed and threw everything into a pile in the corner of his room. Before going to do laundry, he peeked out his window; both cars were gone. No one was home, just the way Craig liked it.

He threw his things in the washer, and grabbed the nearby bottle of febreeze to spray his mattress with. After cleaning up his room, and making his bed with a separate, clean pair of sheets, Craig jumped in the shower to get rid of the smell completely.

The water was scalding, but he needed it. The raven haired boy was trying to also wash away last night's events. Each word still vivid and sharp in his memory, slicing open new wounds in his wrists. He pulled at his hair. Everything about him made so much more sense now. His black hair couldn't have come from Thomas and Laura, but a different man. His height wasn't from those two, either. Everyone was fairly short in both sides of the family. No one in his family had heterochromia, it was just thought to be some mutation, but it made sense. Everything about Craig that couldn't be explained was from some third party member.

" _I was drunk_!" He can feel his heart clench. Everything about him that couldn't be explained was from some third party member that was completely anonymous, and Craig would probably never have the change to meet him. It would probably be for the best as the noirette would probably deck the fucker as soon as he came close enough. It was all his fault anyways, Craig never asked to be born. He never asked to be some bastard child.

Craig scrubbed at his body, using his nails to scratch at himself. He felt so dirty, so  _wrong._  There was so much blood, now. From his wrists and legs because of a blade, from his ribs and stomach because of his nails attempting to scrub away his impurities.

The water was running cold now, but the numbness was calming. Getting out was not something he wanted to do, but Craig felt it was time he get out and attempt to do something productive. So he turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his thin waist. He cleaned up any wounds before walking to his room for clothes.

Now in his room, fully dressed in simple skinny jeans and a hoodie, Craig checked his phone. Twenty-three missed calls from Tweak, two missed calls from his mother, and forty missed texts from a collection of people. The raven haired boy cocked an eyebrow, what could have happened to make people want to contact him so bad? His phone vibrated as Tweak was calling him again. "Tweak-"

"Craig where the hell have you been- GAH! I've been- ngh- trying to get ahold of you for  _hours!_ "

"Shit happened, didn't feel like talking," was all Craig had to say on the matter. "What happened?" Tweak made some inhuman sound either out of annoyance or it was just one of his ticks, Craig never knew anymore.

"Wha-  _what happened_? I thought the reason why you weren't- ngh- talking is because you knew!" On the other end, Tweak was biting his nails and pulling at his hair. This was bad. This was too bad, he couldn't tell Craig over the phone! His head jerked violently and he clenched his eyes shut. "Can I come over?" He managed out through clenched teeth.

"Tweak, what the fuck happened?" Oh jeez, he was angry. This was too much pressure!

"D- dude just let me come over so I can- GAH- explain everything. I don't want the government listening in on this. Please- ngh-"

"God dammit Tweak just spit it out, I don't have time for you to shit around," that was a lie as Craig wasn't doing anything this weekend, save for rewatching Portlandia on Netflix. He listened to the twitchy blond on the other end of the phone fidget and moan about this being too much pressure. He heard a quiet sigh as Tweak collected himself somewhat.

"K- Kenny killed himself last night..."

Craig dropped the phone. Tweak could be heard calling for him, but he didn't care. He and Kenny weren't close, but it was just so out of the blue. The blond never seemed like the type. Well, Butters didn't either, but he still managed to go through with it. He shook his head, this felt weirdly like déjà vu and he wasn't quite sure how. He picked up his phone, Tweak still panicking on the other end. His throat was tight, he couldn't speak. "Craig, man, I'm so sorry," Tweak finally sighed, calming down a little when he heard his friend's breath through the receiver.

"When-" Craig cleared his throat. He was not going to fall apart now. "When's the funeral?"

"I d- don't think they're- ngh- having one."

"... Oh." Craig felt awkward, he was out of things to say. So he hung up, opened his computer, and began watching Portlandia.

* * *

Kenny woke up the next day feeling empty. That's all he ever felt anymore; empty, numb, broken, insignificant, tired. Getting out of bed seemed impossible, but the blond did it anyways. He pulled on his parka over a plain t-shirt and a pair of tattered jeans. He stopped before he left the room, a hand hovering over the doorknob. He could hear his sister crying over his parents arguing. Kevin was yelling too. They had to have been in Karen's room, which was also Kevin's. Kenny never understood how he ended up with his own room, but he did. It was probably because Kenny became something toxic to the youngest McCormick. Karen used to climb into bed with her older brother all the time, she still did but it was less often. Sometimes she would be sleeping in Kenny's bed when he'd been out for most of the night. Karen didn't want to let go of her brother, not yet.

The blond shook his head and opened his door. He was about to leave for the day when Kevin stopped him by the door. "Where do you think you're goin'?"

"Out."

"Take Karen with you. That or just walk her to one of her friends' houses."

"You can take her, I have stuff to do," Kenny went to open the front door when Kevin pushed him against the wall.

"Like fuck you do. You're just going to disappear and get drunk off your ass again. You're just like Dad."

Now it was Kenny's turn to push his brother, who grabbed his parka and pinned him against the wall. The blond was enraged, he was  _not_  his father. He wasn't an abusive drunken asshole who could care less about his kids. He was just an empty drunken asshole who wanted to die and stay dead. "I am  _not_  like Dad," Kenny spat, voice filled with a venom barely ever heard.

"Just take Karen out of this house," Kevin backed off and back to the direction of fighting and crying. The blond waited, his jaw clenched, for Karen to come running out towards him. She would think he was saving her, but he never did that. He just failed her time and time again.

"Kenny," a familiar voice brought him out of his trance. Tiny arms wrapped around his even smaller waist, tears soaked through his shirt. He hugged his little sister tightly.

"Let's go," the blond whispered after a while. Karen, who was thirteen, grabbed his hand and they made their way out the door and to the closest household, the Tuckers.


	3. Good Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part is things already said  
> Getting better, worse, I can not tell  
> Why do good things never wanna stay?  
> Some things you lose, some things you give away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title/summary from: Good Things by Sleeter Kinny
> 
> Warnings: suicide, self harm, abuse

He didn't know how he ended up here, in the bedroom of Craig Tucker. He was going to just drop off Karen and bail, head off to some obscure area to get a little high, get a little drunk, but he was invited in and something inside him couldn't say no.  Craig didn't know why he invited him in, either. Maybe he was lonely, secretly needing some kind of real human interaction. His parents were still gone, and he couldn't stand the feeling of an empty house. 

Neither of the boys knew what to say to each other, they haven't been in this room together in so long. Since Butters died, really. Both of them remember that day vividly, it made Kenny sick and it made Craig feel guilty.

_"Hey have you seen Butters around lately?" Kenny asked, sitting down on his friend's bed. "I haven't heard from him in a while and was wondering if he's okay... Craig what's wrong?" The blond looked up at Craig, who was obviously hiding something. Nothing got passed Kenny._

_"I..." the raven haired bit at his painted nails, unsure of how to go about this. He had to be calm about it, but the tightness in his throat told him that's easier said than done. "Kenny, Butters... He. He was found dead this morning," he waited for a reaction. Kenny just looked at him with those big blue eyes. "He... He hung himself, Kenny," Craig's voice was just a whisper now, trying so hard to keep the tears in. He was failing as a few seemed escape, making trails down his cheeks. He stopped breathing when he heard Kenny chuckle._

  
_"You're shitting me," he said, still laughing. "Butters wouldn't kill himself, no. You're full of shit, and you know it. This isn't funny, though. You shouldn't joke about suicide, man." When Craig didn't respond, Kenny's amused grin faded into anger. He stood up, almost to Craig's shoulder, "He- he's not dead. He_  can't _be dead!" Tears were steadily streaming down his lightly freckled face and his anger morphed into pure sadness, his voice barely a whisper. "You're lying. You have to be lying." Craig, who was silently crying shook his head. Neither of them spoke. Kenny swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with the situation. He thought about how much Butters was trying to help him come out of this depression when the light blond had enough to deal with himself. It made Kenny sick, he ran into the bathroom and threw up. Craig was by his side in an instant, trying to calm the shorter down. Kenny was wailing, now. Broken cries never heard before escaped the blond. He threw up again, feeling his heart shatter. Craig pulled him close, something the noirette had never done, and held him tight. Long fingers ran through blond hair until Kenny's world went dark._

_That night would be the first time he killed himsel since he was ten._

"So...." Kenny looked about the room. There were posters here and there. A bookshelf was filled with manga and CDs in the corner. Same old, same old. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," Craig responded in his signature monotone. The two were laying on the bed, their feet hanging off the side.

"Anything new and exciting happen lately in the Tucker household?"

"I found out I'm a bastard Friday when I came out as gay and now my dad doesn't feel obligated love me. How about you?"

"My moms pregnant and my parents are fighting about whether or not to abort it."

It was strange, to say the least, that Kenny could come to terms so easily with Craig's situation. As long as no one was hurt, Kenny always said, he wouldn't react. He wouldn't make a big deal about it. It's how it was with Butters; he didn't start reacting until the light blond came over with bruises on his face. Kenny's life was never boring, arguments were constant, police lights could be seen at the house monthly. Something like this was expected.

The boys laid together, they could hear Karen and Ruby playing music in the other room. Kenny broke the silence, "You know what I think about a lot?"

"Hm?"

"That time where Kyle's dad made himself into a dolphin."

"What." It wasn't a question, Craig was just all around confused.

"Were you there for that? When we were like. Ten? I think," Kenny sat up and looked down at the raven, a stupid, faux smile plastered on his face.

"No I don't remember that." Craig watched Kenny's grin fall as he laid back down.

"Do you at least remember that time we went to Peru?"

"And I shot lazers out of my eyes? Yeah, I didn't talk to you guys until our freshman year."

There conversation went on like that, talking about memories of when South Park was mostly four little boys getting into all sorts of trouble. It was the best way to cope, Kenny thought, rather than dwelling on the present. It was better than dwelling on the last time he was here, the fact that he never got to say good bye to his best friend. They shared half laughs, both too emotionally drained to really do anything else. When things seemed to die down, the silence became more comfortable. That was until Kenny opened his fat mouth again, "Do you still cut yourself?" Craig pursed his lips, not wanting to answer. He knew, though, that if he didn't, Kenny would know. Kenny would also know if he lied; it was like some supernatural ability. Maybe being defensive would help a little?

"Why do you care?"

"I'm just curious."

More silence. This conversation always made Craig's skin crawl. He never liked talking about his self harm. He never actually admitted it out loud before. He never used the words I, cut, and myself in the same sentence, in order. The raven pulled slightly on his too-big hoodie sleeve, the energy he used to have that made him quick to snap at people who pried gone. This weekend has been too long.

"Yo, Craiggo," Kenny snapped his fingers in front of the boys face. "Do you?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"How long did you do it?" Jesus this kid wasn't going to stop, was he? Craig let out a quiet sigh.

"Since the seventh grade."

"Why?"

Craig didn't reply. Not because he was being a cold asshole, but because he didn't have an answer. Any number of things could work, really; that one kid who bullied him on a daily basis that year, when he had his heart violently broken by his best friend (who is still oblivious to the whole thing), the fact that he bottled his feelings up to the point where he felt like he was being crushed by three grand pianos at once, that he could never put his pain into words or drawings so it just came out through his skin, or even that he was just generally depressed and didn't know what to do about it. ".... I don't know why. I just did."

"You just. Sat down one day and," Kenny paused, "you know."

"Yeah. Why are you asking me about this?"

"I wanted to know if it worked."

"It doesn't," the raven replied quickly. "You think it does at first but then whatever you were trying to get out of you is replaced with emptiness and numbness. And then that numbness will be enough to drive you insane, you need to  _feel something_  again. It's a vicious cycle of self hatred and numbness. You become addicted, nothing positive comes out of it. You should just stay an alcoholic and a drug addict, Kenny, because you at least get a high out of it."

Kenny was quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say, "I think this is the most you've talked in one go since I've been here."

Craig simply flipped the blond off, he did enough talking for the day. The blond next to him seemed to agree as neither said anything else, they simply laid in a comfortable silence, each lost in thoughts of anything and everything.

* * *

 

Craig didn't know when he fell asleep, or when Kenny left with both Karen and Ruby (a note was left on the kitchen counter saying they were at the Broflovski's). He was alone in the house once more, flipping through the channels on the living room television. The process was so mind-numbing, he never heard the garage door going up or the click of the front door being unlocked. The boy jumped out of his skin when said door was thrown open. "Get the fuck off my couch," Thomas growled.

"Jesus, Dad," his son mumbled and stood up, turning the television off. Craig didn't have a chance to leave the area before his fathers fist collided with his jaw.

"Don't call me that!" Thomas roared down at the boy who was now on the floor, looking up with fear-filled eyes. This was the only way Thomas could appear bigger, height wise, with Craig. "I don't have a son. Especially one who's a faggot."

The raven didn't move out of fear. He was used to fist fights, he got into them all the time, but this was the first time his father- no, not his father -Thomas had hit him, had looked at him with such fury. With the power of adrenaline, Craig scrambled to his feet, oblivious to the words being screamed at him, and sprinted out the door with only one word circulating his mind like a broken record:  _fuck_. 


	4. Your Deep Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I called in sick from your funeral.  
> Tradition of closure nearly felt impossible.  
> I should have never gave my word to you;  
> not a cry not a sound.  
> Might have learned how to swim but never taught how to drown,  
> you said “remember me for me”. I watched you set your spirit free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I know this is a week over due but some stuff happened last weekend and i couldn't get myself to finish in time. sorry
> 
> Chapter title/summary: Your Deep Rest by The Hotelier  
> Warnings: suicide, alcoholism, mental illness mention, self-harm mention, smoking mention, vague mentions of rape

No one in South Park liked school. Not even the smartest, nerdiest kids that lived in the little Podunk town. The kid who seemed to hate any form of education the most was Kyle Broflovski, which seemed to be a shock as this guy was definitely going places. The next student whose hate seemed to rival the red head's was Kenny's. He knew for a fact he wasn't going anywhere in life, that he was going to end up jobless and poor just like his father. He tried dropping out a few times, but Kevin put a stop to each attempt. "You're gonna go to school, get into a good college, and you're gonna have a good, high payin' job, got it? You an' Karen ain't gonna end up like the rest of us if I have something to say about it," he told his little brother every time the blond skipped school. "You're a smart kid, Kenny. Don't let all this make you think you ain't goin' nowhere." Of course, Kenny called bull shit on the things Kevin said about him, but not the things he's said about Karen. She had a future, but not him. The blond could barely function sober anymore, the weight of self hatred and grief too much to bare without the help of some cheap alcohol. He couldn't sleep, either. The nights he didn't kill himself, or drink until he passed out, would be spent tossing and turning in bed, mind full of racing thoughts about anything and everything. Existential crises weren't uncommon, panic attacks over the unknown were next to daily, he often wished Butters's way out worked for him.

He thought a lot about Butters, really. The two were inseparable and both hopelessly in love with each other, but too nervous to do anything. They both had a lot to deal with, but Butters had it worse in Kenny's eyes. His parents drove him to be anorexic, telling him he'd be grounded if he wasn't a certain weight. They hit him, told him asexuality was fake, said that being genderfluid was a joke, sent him to "straight camp" every summer, his mom had tried to kill him a few times, and his dad at one point tried to "cure" his asexuality, to put things lightly. All this happened to the light blond, but he pushed his problems aside to help Kenny. Help him get sober and stay that way, help him cope with everything that happened, even believed the fact that Kenny could not stay dead. It made everything easier to talk about, it made his purging turn from excessive drinking to talking to Butters. Kenny was going to ask Butters out on a date the day he died, as a thank you for bringing him out of this shithole he was in. He was devastated, but mostly angry at himself for not doing anything sooner. Not once had he helped Butters, only voiced an angry opinion every time they met up and the bright blond looked like he had been crying or if he had new bruises. He never asked Butters to talk about it, never tried to stop his parents. He just let the boy stay the night and went about his own business. Kenny could never fill the void Butters filled the same way again, no matter what girl or guy he fucked, how much he drank, how much heroine he shot, or how high he got, it was like putting a square peg in a circular hole. So he did what McCormicks do best, drink away his feelings and tell people he's fine. No one believed him, of course, but they never had the energy to fight with him about it. The town felt lifeless, nowadays. Maybe it was just all the teenage angst that seemed to engulf the school, maybe not, but god damn the amount of angst was unreal. It was like everyone gave up, it was like an epidemic of mental illness and sleep deprivation.

Kenny's friend group was almost a prime example of that. Stan was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and some type of personality disorder the blond forgot the name of. He was also a "recovering" alcoholic, the word used so often it became meaningless (and was). Kyle was Autistic, plagued by Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and has been hospitalized on several occasions for suicide attempts, or just straight up accidents that were due to his OCD. Tweek suffered from crippling anxiety and Tourette's Syndrome. Craig was, well he was Craig. Anxiety and depression were his best friends, as was anorexia, self harm and smoking. Cartman was pulled from public schooling after almost shooting up the school and no one talked to him anymore. Happiness was, indeed, something hard to come by at South Park High, which is why Kenny fit right in.

Classes droned on, Craig was gone, Kyle had a break down in the middle of AP World History, Tweek was asked to leave World Literature again because his ticks were "too disruptive" (although Kenny was positive he was pretty quiet, and the teacher was just being a bitch), nothing out of the ordinary, save for Craig's absence. Craig never missed a day of school despite how much he hated it, but there's always a first for everything, Kenny thought to himself as he walked home. It was about his lunch period now, and he couldn't take it anymore. His head was pounding and he desperately needed a drink. He pulled on the strings of his worn out parka and chewed on his chapped lip, singing in his head to his favorite songs.

No one was home today, which was a first. Kenny assumed Kevin was at work, and his parents were out making a deal or something else illegal. It was obvious where Karen was, he walked her to each class just to be sure no one would pick on her, which used to be often. The blond shook his head slowly, grabbing a beer from the almost empty fridge before retreating to his room. He used to share his room with Karen up until Kevin found out that Kenny was hiding drugs in there, Karen was immediately taken out of there to her dismay. The blond couldn't argue that it was a bad idea or else he'd be lying. Karen was the golden child of the McCormick family; smart, headstrong, kind, and, most importantly, she never got into drugs or alcohol. No one told her for the sake of keeping her anxiety levels low, but she was going to give the McCormick name a better meaning. She wasn't going to be just poor and stupid, no, Karen McCormick was going to be known by name. Kenny couldn't help but smile at the idea of his little sister becoming happy and successful in life, something he gave up on years ago. Kenny sat on his bed, which really was just an old mattress on top of an even older mattress, with a heavy sigh. He took a gulp of his beer before reaching between the mattresses for a folded piece of paper. It had been folded so much and crumpled and unfolded time and time again, it looked next to ancient, but it was relatively new. Only a few months old, almost a year. It was a note, Butters's suicide note. Kenny read it every day because it was for him, Kenny's name on it in his impossibly neat handwriting. The blond had to sneak into Butters's room through the window to get the note before the Stotch parents threw it away. Kenny didn't even have to read the note to know what his said, he read it so much, but he did anyways.

 _This isn't an apology to everyone,_ it began. _No, you all should be apologizing to me. My parents especially. The only people I am really sorry to are Craig, Bradley, and mostly my bestest friend, Kenny. They didn't do nothing wrong and shouldn't have to go through this._

_'m not sorry, Mom, you were the one who tried to kill me in the first place. I hope you're happy._

_I'm not sorry, Dad, you're probably happy you don't have to worry about your son being "wrong" or whatever._

_I'm not sorry, Eric, Kyle, Stan and everyone else at school. It's not like any of you cared anyways. You're all manipulative assholes anyways._

_Ken, I'm real sorry for you, though. I know you are real upset with me._ —Kenny actually wasn't, no, he was upset with everyone else. _—I was just out of options, and I couldn't take it anymore. I know you said I could talk to you about this, but I never wanted to give you more things to worry about, I care about you too much. I know I never really told you this and meant it in a not-friend way, but I love you, Ken. I really do, and I wish I could have told you, but I was scared. I dunno what I was scared of, but I was. Kenny I hope you don't hate me for this_ —He didn't— _I hope you finally get to your happy place._

The last line always hit Kenny the hardest. Butters knew what his happy place was, and that was the afterlife. But not the momentary kind. Kenny's happy place was an indefinite death, which is why he downed the rest of his beer and went into Kevin's room after putting the note back in its place. After a bit of searching, the blond pulled the pistol Kevin always kept in the room out from under his nightstand. Kevin always moved his gun after Kenny shot himself, maybe he knew that his little brother was cursed. The blond shrugged to himself and turned off the safety, holding the gun to his temple. His finger touched the trigger when there was a knock on the door.


	5. Constant Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm just a constant headache  
> A dead pet device.  
> You hang me up, unfinished  
> With the better part of me no longer mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //hi everyone!! I know it's been a while, and really my excuses are kinda shitty. But generally speaking: schools a bitch and drama sucks the life out of you. Hopefully, though, since I started writing again I'll be back to updating regularly. Also! Thank you to those of you who gave kudos and commented, and reminded me I had this story you're all fabulous.
> 
> Chapter title/summary: Constant Headache by Joyce Manor  
> Warnings: alcoholism, suicide mention, abuse mention, smoking

Kenny couldn't decide whether to just ignore it, or answer the door. He figured it would be easier just to put the gun down and wait until later, it would be less emotional stress on whoever it was anyways. Kenny heaved a sigh and went to the living room.

"Craig?" Kenny opened the front door, pistol buried in the depths of his parka's pocket. "What are you doing here?"

"Dude," the noirette slurred out, leaning against the old doorframe. His cheeks were a bright pink from the cold, the alcohol, or both. Both seemed like the best answer as Craig stumbled into the dirty house uninvited. "Did you know," he turned around, almost falling over, but being caught by Kenny who was killed by falling in the same place and hitting his head on the broken coffee table, "that- that Skeeters is not really that shitty of a place?" The blond lowered Craig onto the dingy couch so stop the lanky boy from being a hazard.

"Is that where you were all morning?" Kenny cocked an eyebrow, "You missed school today."

"Yeah, but _fuck_ school. I wasn't gonna fuckin' go anyways. Nope," Craig let out a giggle that threw Kenny off guard. Craig never laughed anymore, and the blond couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning upward. "I like. Spent the night in a bar, I wasn't gonna go to school like that. Nah, I just decided to repay Skeeter for lettin' me stay. And I do not regret it," Kenny's smile dropped even though Craig let out another breathy laugh.

"Why did you spend the night at a bar?"

"That, is one hell of a story," Craig looked up at his parka-clad friend. "Like, I'm a bastard right? Like, like my dad isn't really my dad. But also my dads fucking homophobic as shit, so he fucking hates my guts. And like? I forget what I was doing but he just, he slaps me, right?" Kenny clenched his jaw a bit, but kept his face void of any emotion. "So I just fuckin' up and ran. And when it got dark, I hid out in Skeeters because do you how fucking cold it is here? Mother fucker it's freezing! So.... I, uh.... I'm," the noirettes face drained of color. Kenny knew exactly what was about to happen and grabbed the nearest trash can.

Craig emptied the contents of his stomach into the waste basket as Kenny went to grab him a glass of water. Returning, he asked a question that would have made Craig freeze up, if he were sober. "Did you piss yourself?"

The raven spit out any extra bile before sitting up and back, "Yeah... I do that." He took a sip of the water and leaned his head on the back of the couch. "I think I drank too much."

"No shit. My parents rarely get to that level of drunk, I rarely get to that level of drunk." Kenny shook his head, assuming the piss was due to the fact that Craig was so intoxicated he lost control of his bladder. "You're fucked up, dude"

"Tell me something I don't know," Craig leaned over again and retched once more into the trash can. "I'm never doing this again," he managed out before another wave hit him.

"How do you do this every day?"

"It's a family trait, and I don't do it every day."

"No, just every other one-" more vomiting. Craig's head felt like there was a pick axe in the base of his skull, and that his eyes were about to burst right then and there.

"Put your head between your knees," Kenny's voice came through a thick fog. The raven didn't feel the couch shift as his blond friend got up and returned with a small pill. "Take this, it'll help."

Craig slowly sat up half way, the room was spinning, "What is it?"

"Anti-nausea pill. I think it's the only legal drug in my house." Kenny watched Craig knock the pill back, mumbling something along the lines of "and you say I'm fucked up," and resume his previous position. A moment of silence passed, the ravens breathing seemed to slow down during this moment. The blond realized he was asleep, and decided to move the lanky boy to somewhere a little more comfortable. Give or take the McCormick house was the least comforting house in all of South Park, he could at least try. So Kenny picked up the sort of surprisingly light noirette and moved him to his bedroom. 

* * *

Craig didn't remember passing out, he didn't even remember where he was. Panic ran through him for a second as he wracked his memory for just where the hell he was. A glance at a random porn mag on the floor finally gave him his answer: Kenny's room.  
It was nothing fancy, really. Just a big fucking mess. Magazines, empty beer bottles, and random articles of clothes were thrown about the floor. Pages out of aforementioned magazines were hung up on the walls, and Kenny's name was carved into the wall next to his makeshift bed. Craig flipped to be laying on his stomach, moving to cover his head with a pillow to save him from the too bright light, but stopped when something caught his eye.

Hanging out from between the dirty mattresses was neatly folded piece of paper that looked several years old. Craig reached down and carefully pulled it out of its hiding place. Upon seeing the neat handwriting, he breathed a tiny gasp, not knowing what emotion he was trying to feel. He knew exactly what this was, though. Butters's note. Craig went to read it, something he never got to do, but was interrupted by distant yelling. Unknowingly, the boy shoved the note into his coat pocket and made his way out to investigate the commotion.

"Why the hell did you skip again?"

"Technically I had a half day-"

"Bull shit!" Kevin, out of anger, punched the nearby wall, causing Craig to jump. Wide eyes watched the two brothers continue to yell, unsure of what to do. "You're going to get suspended again, Kenny. Eventually they're just gonna fuckin' expel you!"

"You're missing the point, here, Kev: I don't care! I'm not going anywhere, you know that! Plus you don't have the right to tell me what to do with my education, you're a fucking drop out!"

Back and forth, back and forth they continued, voices only getting louder and Craig's throat getting tighter, his heart beating faster, his hands shaking more violently. He needed a smoke, he needed one now. "I just want what's best for you and Karen! You need to be there for her anyways!" Kevin's fists were clenched at his sides, he was fighting himself to keep his hands down, no more hitting, he thought to himself.

"Quit playing the Karen card, just- just stop using her to get under my skin! Stop reminding me she's all I really have," tears were welling up in the blond's blue eyes as memories washed over him. "It's a dick move, dude." Now it was his turn to clench his fists, but he was not keeping himself under control.

"If I didn't use the Karen card, you'd stop caring completely then she's gonna end up just like Butters, you know tha-"

Kevin was knocked onto the floor in one swift move, Kenny was seething, tears now streaming down his face. "Don't you _ever_ say that again!"

"Jesus," Craig breathed out, causing his friend to quickly look in his direction.

"I- I'm sorry. I- you- you should go. I'm sorry," Kenny pulled the hood of his parka up over his eyes and tightened the strings before rushing past the taller boy.

"Kenny-" the door slammed in the ravens face. Craig looked down at Kevin, who was brushing himself off and beginning to sport a black eye.

"Sorry you had to see that," he muttered. Craig was at a loss for words at this point, so he simply nodded and quickly left the McCormick household.

As soon as the cold air hit his face, not even a foot away from the front door, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He sighed, drained, and took a few shaky puffs of the cancer stick before taking a few more steps away. He stopped dead, though, when a gun shot pierced the quiet air.


	6. Andy You're a Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the field I remember  
> You were incredible  
> Hey shut up, get shup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //getting slightly back on schedule!!! Also k think this is my longest chapter  
> Chapter title/summary: Andy You're a Star by the Killers  
> Warnings: mentions of abuse, self harm, homophobic and other slurs, smoking, anxiety attacks

Craig hated everything. He was never a very happy child and nothing's changed since. Everything's that's happened was simply making things worse. Thomas had hit him again, several times. His mom and he held a screaming match afterward in front of the boy. They ended up fucking later that night, to both children's disgust. Craig had explained what happened to Ruby that night to keep her company and to keep her mind off of what was happening in the next room.

Ruby was a mute, she had never talked since Craig could remember. He learned sign language just to understand what she wanted to say, and it came in handy in fifth grade. Kenny suddenly stopped talking, no one knew why, but he kept it up until the middle of his sixth grade year. He remembered Butters coming up to him, deviated that he couldn't understand his best friend. Give or take, Kenny wrote when he could, but it wasn't often he was given the opportunity. So he taught himself basic ASL, and Butters couldn't stand just asking yes or no questions anymore. "Craig, you gotta help me," he cried, actually cried. Although he hated that group of friends for stealing his birthday money and getting him stuck in Peru, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. So the two met up every other day for a few weeks to teach the blond everything he needed to know when it came to talking to Kenny.

That's when he knew that Butters really, in a more than friends way, loved Kenny. The determination to still communicate with him, how happy it made them both. It was love, there was no question about it. Unlike the perfect would-be couple, Craig and his best friend, Clyde, were dysfunctional to say the least. There was a subtle lack of respect for the taller's feelings, fights were too common, and the list of grudges was unreal. Yet, Craig couldn't stop himself from crushing on the dumb brunet. Even after coming out to him, only to be horribly shut down on a move he never made, Craig still loved him. Even now, years later, he still did. It made Craig angry that he could never get over the idiot, but here he was, on the bleachers with Tweek, watching him play football. "I never- ngh -understood why you do this every- every day," the twitchy blond muttered against the cold.

"Gives me something to do during my free period," Craig replied monotonously. Tweek just shook his head and took a gulp of his coffee. The two have been close friends since preschool, never really leaving each others sides for anything. People constantly assumed they were gay, and when they pretended to be boyfriends in fourth grade, things just got worse. But resistance was futile, so they went with it. It really just meant they could spend more time together, which wasn't a bad thing. Tweek held onto the habit of holding Craig's hand, though, but it wasn't a big deal. Clyde got annoying about the intimacy, but that was just him. No one cared anymore, they had their own shit to worry about. "So why did Miss Bitchowsky kick you out of class this time?" Craig asked to break the silence.

"Ngh- she said my tics were too- GAH -loud again. I- I think she's out to get me dude!" The teacher of his World Literature class, Miss Burkowsky, constantly had Tweek leave her class because of his tics, even when he kept them under control, were "too noisy" and they were "disrupting her class."

"Maybe she's an alien and you're messing with her cloaking device," Craig took out a cigarette, and lit it, blowing the smoke away from the blond.

"She probably is man! It's like- mmn -every other day she- she makes me leave! Kyle's been tutoring me, but I don't- ngh-I don't- nngh -I don't-" Tweek couldn't help going into a little fit of quiet noises and twitching. It happened whenever he got worked up or when he went too long repressing his tics, which was common. Craig waited patiently for him to regain composure and take a deep breath. "I don't wanna keep bothering him, you know? The poor guy's been having more and more meltdowns, I feel bad." He leaned against the bleacher behind him and took another gulp of his coffee.

"Have you talked to any counsellors or your parents about it? Maybe they can move you to a different class or something."

"I tried both- ngh -and the counsellor only talked to Miss B, which obviously did jack shit. And my parents don't ever- ah -listen to me."

"That's shitty."

"Yeah," the two resumed their silence, save for the quiet noises from Tweek, just watching the football team run around, doing drills and such. Clyde had spotted the two about halfway through practice and waved, almost getting Craig caught for smoking again. At the end of practice, Craig and Tweek made their way down the bleachers, hand in hand, "I'm gonna break my fucking legs going down these- GAH -steps!" Tweek had always said, to meet up with Clyde and Token.

"Hey, gayfags," Clyde beamed, his oh-so clever nickname for the two made Craig slightly more uncomfortable than usual.

"Dude," Token rolled his eyes, "I think that's getting old by now."  
"Nah, it's still comedic genius," the brunet laughed.

"You can't even spell genius," Craig deadpanned.

Clyde faked an offended gasp, touching his fingertips to his chest. Before he could say anything, the coach yelled from across the field, "Donavan! Black! Showers! You can talk to your boyfriends later!" And the two were gone.

"Ah, yes, modern day homophobia," Token sighed before following Clyde into the building. "See you in a few." There was no time to reply, and only two remained, hands still locked together. Craig wouldn't say it out loud, but he missed the contact. The weekend has consisted of yelling, abuse, and muffled crying and it was refreshing to hold someone's hand.

"Are you ever going to tell me about those bruises, or what?" And the moment was ruined.

"What?" Craig let go of Tweek's hand, defensive walls going up in a heart beat.

"Do you think- GAH -I wouldn't notice? How- how stupid do you think I- ahh -am?" Craig didn't reply, words caught in his throat, choking him. "Was it just a- ngh -fist fight with some kid or what? I'm worried about you, man." Craig took a step back, turning slightly, ready to run, but ended up only running into Clyde.

"Woah, relax, dude," the brunet laughed as Craig stumbled back and uttered an unnecessary apology. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

It was too much, his heart was beating a thousand times a minute while simultaneously breaking. His chest hurt, he couldn't breathe. "I gotta go," he barely got out and speed walked as fast as possible away from the situation.

"What's his ish?" Clyde had asked, only to not receive and answer. Tweek just watched his tall friend disappear into the main building, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets.

Once inside, Craig ran into the nearest bathroom which was, luckily, empty and into the handicapped stall. He locked the door and sat down in the furthest corner, breathing ragged and his heart pounding. Flashbacks to just last night suffocating him, the yelling from both parents, being hit over and over, hearing Ruby sniffle in the dead quiet of the room. The walls were caving in. His chest felt like it was going to explode, his heart was pounding, he couldn't breathe. His skin was crawling, each individual cut on his body was stinging, he couldn't move, he was afraid. He was so, so afraid.

"Craig?" A voice made the boy jump, a panicked gasp giving away his position. The person took a few steps in his direction, Craig was unable to do anything. "Hey," it was Clyde. Craig knew as a mop of brown hair appeared under the stall door. "You alright, dude?" Clyde crawled to be in the stall as well, eyebrows knit together out of concern. He stuck a hand out and wiped a tear away from Craig's face, despite the obvious recoil. "I haven't seen you cry in a while..." Clyde said more to himself than anything. Craig only managed a quiet hiccup out, his voice caught in his throat. "You havin' one of those attack things?" Clyde has been there for some of Craig's anxiety attacks, many of Tweek's, and has had a few of his own, but no one had to know about that. Craig nodded and Clyde stuck out his arms, knowing that his tall friend needed comfort, and something solid to keep him grounded. The raven curled into his friend's form, the beating of his heart and extreme body heat an immediate source of comfort. Clyde held Craig tight, he could feel the guy shaking like a leaf, but his breathing was evening out. Several moments passed until Craig relaxed, "What's bothering you, dude?"

"Nothing," he uttered. Of course, what else would he do?

"Nothing? Or do you just not want to talk about it?"

"Yeah..."

The silence fell again, the period change was more than over, both boys beyond tardy, but neither cared. "How have you been?" Clyde asked, not about Craig in general, but about his self harm. Craig shrugged, "Can I see?" Clyde had been the only one to see the complete disaster that was his friend's body, and he was the only one allowed to. Everyone knew what he did, they just never saw the damage, no one needed to. Only Clyde did because he was his best friend, he actually cared. So Craig sat up, out of the brunets hold, and held out an arm. Clyde took it in his hands, his grip as light as a feather, and carefully rolled up the sleeve of his friend's favorite blue hoodie. There was nothing new, at least that was visible, Craig's entire body was littered with the little gashes; his arms were just the worst spot. There was almost no clean areas, each was so close, his arm felt like sand paper. Clyde pulled out a marker and began drawing on his friend. It was something he'd done in a weak attempt to get Craig to stop the unhealthy habit. It did something, but it did not cure him of the addiction. Clyde continued to try, though, with lopsided hearts, asymmetrical butterflies, scribbled stars, and the occasional dick drawing (which pulled a few laughs from them both).

When Craig's arm was completely decorated, Clyde wrote, in big letters, ONE WEEK, on the boy's palm. "Can you make it that long?"

"I can try," Craig uttered, not wanting to make any promises. He had no control anymore, the things he did were not him anymore. Kind of like how he was foolishly moving in to kiss his very straight best friend, it was not him.

As their lips connected, there was a brief second of nothing, no one had moved, until Clyde realized what was happening. "Woah," he breathed, pulling away and scooting a bit to put a few inches between them. "Craig, I'm not gay."

"I- I know, I'm sorry," Craig stood up, wobbly and red faced. "I. I need to go, I'm so sorry," he opened the stall door and ran, tears threatening to fall once more, his lips still tingling. The raven stopped dead in the middle of a random hallway, the period was about to end, school was almost over. He angrily wiped at his eyes, he was sick of crying, what ever happened to his impenetrable wall of monotony? It fell to shit, that's what. Everything went to shit the night he tried to come out, and now his life was shit. This was _his_ fault, it was all his fault. _He_ was the bastard, _he_ was the faggot, _he_ was the one who ruined his, and the rest of his family's lives.  
Craig didn't hear the final bell ring, he was too busy stirring within his rage as he went to find his locker. When he found it, he put in the combination wrong several times before punching the door several times, bruising his knuckles, only to have his thin wrist caught by a single, pale, bony hand.

"You gotta relax, dude," came a strangely soothing voice. It was Kenny, "take a deep breath." Craig couldn't understand why his stomach dropped the way it did, something wasn't right. Kenny shouldn't be here, is what his gut was telling him, but he couldn't pin point why. "Hey," the blond snapped in front of his face, "you alright?"

"Peachy."

"I'm taking Karen over today, do you want me to hang out with you?" Kenny asked, seeing though Craig, as always.

"I don't care," the latter grumbled, deciding the things in his locker weren't important and walking away.

"I'll be over in about an hour," the blond called after, not moving from his place next to the slightly dented locker. Craig did not reply, he just kept walking. He needed a cigarette.


	7. How to Never Stop Being Sad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But most importantly drown every single one of your feelings in old stolen rum,  
> Learn to love the taste of it dripping down your throat  
> Find comfort in the warmth coming from your stomach,  
> You're drinking bottled love now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //look at me being late again!! Honestly just expect an update every other Sunday, I'll stop providing false hope in the end of my chapters lmao. Also disclaimer: I didn't have as much time as I wanted to do enough research about Kyle's condition (OCD and autism) so what I have written may not be 100% accurate, I'm sorry if it upsets anyone, but that is definitely not my intention.  
> Chapter title/summary: How to Never Stop Being Sad by Dandelion Hands  
> Warnings: Alcoholism, Smoking, Melt downs

The high school has never been so on edge, the students were all talking nervously. "Did you hear? Eric Cartman is coming back." "Did you know they're allowing Eric Cartman to return to the school?" "Dude, the guy who tried to shoot up the school is gonna come back," everyone chattered anxiously, no one was happy about the seemingly insane decision to bring back Eric Cartman, who was arrested for carrying a firearm into the school building. He said that if he wasn't jumped so soon, he would have already "killed a dirty fucking Jew". Kyle Broflovski had the entire interview memorized and was beyond unhappy.

"This is _bullshit_!" He screamed in the middle of class, throwing his books onto the floor. The teacher jumped about ten feet into the air at the outburst. Each classmate turned to face the redhead, curious as to what was wrong this time around; some had pulled out their cell phones, ready to record for their latest snapchat story. "Who the fuck is even running this school?" A fist was slammed onto Kyle's desk, but he quickly hit the other one down to match.

"Kyle, chill out," Stan said, tired of having to calm the boy down so often.

"Don't tell me what to do, asshole!" Kyle was standing now, face bright red with fury. "You have no idea what this even means! And have no room to tell me to chill out!"

"Yeah, Stan, can't you see we're fucked? In both the ass and the mouth. I'm sure if we had vages, we'd be fucked there, too," Kenny chimed in, leaning back in his seat. Kenny vividly remembered being shot by Cartman in a sorry attempt to play hero, the panic of everyone in school, their screaming, Kyle's screaming as he was the one Kenny pushed out of the way, but he remembered the pain the most. He always remembered the pain. The blond's thoughts were interrupted by a hard smack to the back of his head.

"Dude!" Stan yelled, "Don't egg him on like that"

"He has a point though," Kyle's voice was lowered to more of a growl. "Cartman's gonna come back, I'm gonna be pulled from the school, Cartman's gonna shoot up the school while I'm killing myself because there's no way in hell I'm being homeschooled by my devil of a mother. So we're all gonna die, I'll see you fuckers in hell." Stan stood up suddenly, the thought of Kyle being gone striking a dangerous cord. Yet, he remained straight faced, eerily calm. The whole class held their breath, the teacher sat frozen, with the classroom phone still in hand. She was always afraid of Kyle and his outbursts, even if he was more of a danger to himself than anyone else.

"I'm going to guida-"

"I'm going with him."

"Like hell you are."

"Kyle," Stan moved from behind his desk and closer to his best friend, "you need someone to go with you-"

" _Don't touch me_!" Stan had made the mistake of going to touch the boy's shoulder which sent Kyle over the edge, literally, as the redhead tripped over his desk and slammed the side of his head on the desk next to his. Stan had stopped breathing, watching as his best friend writhed in pain, clutching the back of his head and making a high pitched noise in the back of his throat for a few seconds before the screaming began. The students were recording, now, as Kyle kicked at his desk from the floor, eventually tipping it over. The teacher was now speaking frantically into the phone, side eying the boy to make sure he was still on the floor.

"Kenny, can I have some help?" Stan asked, now attempting to keep the shrieking kid still before he got hurt anymore.

"You got yourself into this mess," the blond leaned back in his chair, folding his arms to his chest.

"You're a piece of shit, you know that? You're actually the fucking worst."

"Says the one who got his 'super best friend' to throw a fucking huge ass fit."

"I didn't start this! You're the one who egged him on-"

"You touched him at the worst possible moment and look where we are. If you had just let Kyle go to the goddamned counsellors office, none of this would be happening. Now he's gonna be the main joke of the day, again, he's not going to be happy until he hits the other side of his head with the same amount of force, and he's going to be hospitalized, again," Kenny stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. He started to walk out, holding the door for the group of staff who were rushing in to calm the class down. Stan glared at him, tears welling in his eyes. What Kenny said was a little too harsh, but his head was killing him and he needed a drink. Out in the hall, he was making his way to the main doors when the bell rang and Kenny remembered he couldn't go home today. No, Kevin was staying home today and he was going to call the cops on him for truancy if the blond skipped school again. Fuck. Kenny turned himself around and began walking towards the back doors, where the football field was. He was just going to wait this out there, then.

The cold wind bit at his skin as soon as he opened the doors, making his eyes water and his capped lips sting a little. One would think Kenny was used to this, as he lived in Colorado all his life, but no. It was always shitty and he'd never get used to it. Kenny sighed, watching his breath puff out in front of him, took out a flask he stole from his father this morning, and tipped it back. The warm feeling in his stomach has been his only source of comfort since Butters died, and that was something Kenny would most likely never change. It was just a nice feeling, it felt like love, Kenny thought as he remembered how Butters made him feel. No one could replicate that, he always said. It was a one of a kind feeling, he thought as he made his way to the bleachers by the football field.

It was Craig's free period again, and he was making his way out to his usual spot, unusually alone. Tweek wasn't at school today, but managing his parents' coffee shop while they were out of town for the day. Besides the football players, there was another person outside, up on the top row of the bleachers. Walking closer, and taking a few steps up said bleachers, Craig realized it was none other than Kenny. The parka being a dead giveaway. He continued up to where Kenny was sitting and joined him with a monotonous, "'Sup." Kenny, who had his hood pulled up and mouth covered (something he hadn't done since middle school), simply shrugged and managed to take a swig of whatever was in his flask. "Bad day?" The blond nodded. "Me too..." Craig sighed and pulled out a cigarette, "Want one?" he asked before lighting up. Kenny shook his head and tipped back the flask again. He was probably showing that he had his own coping methods, but Craig was just trying to be polite.

Twenty minutes of silence passed between them. Within those twenty minutes, Craig had gone through three and a half cigarettes, and Kenny had drank all the rum in his flask. Neither had spoken a word, so Craig jumped when the boy next to him spoke.

"What?" The raven couldn't understand him from behind his parka, so, not wanting to remove his hood, Kenny sighed and began signing.

_Aren't you cold?_

"Not really, no," Craig lied through his chattering teeth. He'd been shivering since he arrived twenty minutes prior, only wearing a simple blue hoodie, not an actual coat more suited for the bitter South Park weather.

 _Bullshit_.

"Fight me," he paused for a second. "Why are you signing again?"

 _Don't feel like talking right now. Especially since you can't understand me. And I think Karen's going through a phase like I did, so I'm practicing. I think Ruby's teaching her some stuff._ Kenny sighed, but then took off his coat and handed it to Craig.

"The fuck dude, I'm fine," but Kenny just pushed the orange monstrosity forward until the raven reluctantly took it.

_Put it on._

Craig flipped him off and pulled on the parka. Is was extremely warm from its original owner's freakish body temperature, and he couldn't really complain about it. He looked over, at the silent blood next to him, and noticed he was wearing just a ratty old band shirt. "Aren't _you_ cold?"

 _Nope_.

"Whatever you say," he huffed a silent laugh and leaned against the cold chain link fence that kept kids from falling off. A few moments passed of just watching the players, "Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?" Kenny nodded. "But you're out here, why?"

_Kyle freaked out in class today about Eric coming back. Stan got all butt hurt because he accidentally triggered him, and it was just generally a shitstorm. I think Stan is pissed at me, though, because I egged Kyle on a bit and yelled at him for fucking up. I'm just tired, now, and can't go home._

"Can't go home? Why?"

_Kev said he'd call the truancy cops on me and I don't need that shit in my life right now._

"Kind of a dick move, don't you think?" Craig asked, then added, "But you've also missed like half a semester, so it's almost justified."

_You think so?_

"Yeah, I mean. Shits been hard for you without Butters, especially with how he went out..." he trailed off, noticing the blond tense up. "I know you need space and time to heal, dude, everyone does. Some more than others, but you had a future and you threw it in the fucking trash because of how much you don't try anymore. So I think Kevin, as big of an asshole he is, has his heart in the right place." Kenny didn't reply, unsure of what to say. He wanted to agree, to nod and say he understood, but some part of him couldn't do it. "Look, Kenny, nothing in this town is easy, everything here sucks dick. If you want to get by and get better, you gotta take tiny fucking baby steps," Craig stopped when he noticed an ambulance pull into the front of the school building. He watched as the paramedics ran in and returned with a certain redhead strapped down and screaming bloody murder. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to watch Kenny sign.

 _Kyle's mom called them. He sighed, watching the ambulance pull away. She doesn't know how to deal with him when he freaks out like that. So she just calls the hospital and they do her job for her. Except it's really messing up Kyle because they don't care about his boundaries and then they just pump him full of stuff. It's..._ Kenny's hands dropped, he was clearly irritated.

"It's bullshit," Craig finished. The blond sighed in agreement, and never replied. The two sat in silence until the period ended. Craig never went to meet up with Clyde and Token, as he usually did. Neither moved after the players went in for the last period. No, the two just smoked and drank quietly, comfortable in each other's company until they could go home.


	8. I Exist, I Exist, I Exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven't stopped crying,  
> My father's been drinking,  
> I need a place to stay  
> [...]  
> So don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look at me.  
> Because I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooooooo boy. I really don't have an excuse for how late this is except school. Not a good excuse, but the only one I can currently pull out of my ass. I'm so sorry for making you all wait, but also thank you so much for waiting and being patient with me. I wanted to give a big thank you, though, to alayhwmikibo for doodling an amazing work of art for this story. I still look at it and it brings me so much joy. Here's the link for anyone who wants to view the awesomeness: http://alayhwmikibo.tumblr.com/post/142095111376  
> Um, if anyone wants to do something w this fic feel free to tag/mention me @crxnny on tumblr or tag falling apart together because I'mma start tracking it for you artsy folk. Thanks again for being so patient with me!  
> Anyways here's this stuff:  
> Chapter title/summary: I Exist I Exist I Exist by Flatsound  
> Warnings: Abuse, alcoholism, self harm, drug use mention,

Craig was never a morning person, and waking up freezing cold in a puddle of his own piss didn't help much. Sighing, the boy rolled out of bed, changed into a different pair of pajama pants and stripped his bed of the soiled sheets. He piled everything up and made his way to the laundry room. Everyone was still asleep, he noted, good.

The washing machine started and Thomas walked into the room. "The fuck you doing, boy?" Craig jumped out of his skin.

"Laundry," he mumbled, suddenly interested in the pattern on the tile floor.

"Did you piss yourself?" Thomas has this way of speaking that made Craig feel tiny, although he was the tallest one in the house. The lack of an answer made the red head even angrier, for some reason he was hell bent on knowing this information.  "How old are you, again?"

"Seventeen," Craig replied quietly.

"Seventeen and you're still pissin' yourself. Pathetic, just like your whore mother."

"Don't talk about her like that," the raven spat, earning a harsh smack to his face strong enough to throw him to the floor.

"Don't talk to me like that, boy," Thomas growled. Craig remained on the floor, seething.

"Why don't you just leave?" he made the mistake of asking.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Thomas pushed the boy in the chest with his foot so he was flat on his back, and then leaned down to hover over him.

"You heard me. Get out i-" Craig couldn't finish his sentence because the huge fist of his faux father collided hard with his mouth. That was followed by a flurry of more fists, hitting him every where possible. A sickening  _crack_ echoed through the quiet house; signifying Craig his nose was now broken.

When Thomas finished beating the bastard child, his knuckles were bloody, and sweat had formed on his wrinkled forehead. Craig was in a daze, falling closer to unconsciousness, eyes half lidded. "I hope you learned your fucking lesson, ungrateful bastard," Thomas spat, actually spitting on the boy before getting up and exiting the scene. Craig, barely functioning, looked around through blurred vision and saw a pair of bright red pigtails in the doorway. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a coughing fit made its way out of his bruising body.

Ruby made her way closer, a little white box in her hands. She was eerily calm, but her eyes were sad. Ruby usually looked very stoic, it was a Tucker trait; the wall of indifference, but her eyes never lied about how she felt and Craig could always read her best. Now was no exception as the young girl went to work, cleaning up her broken brother, she heard, barely audible, "I'm sorry, Ruby. I'm so fucking sorry," and other things along the same lines from him. She did her best to hide the tiny sniffles from the fresh tears, just beginning to fall. She wanted to tell him it would be okay, it's not his fault, but she was busy and her voice was broken. It was hard, wanting to communicate, but not being able to.

When Ruby finished, Craig patched up to the best of her ability, she hugged him tight, but careful not to hurt him. She was sobbing, unable to hold it in anymore. Craig put his arm around his little sister, rubbing her back and doing his best to calm her. More apologies, sniffles, and little throat noises that were Ruby's form of crying filled the still tense, quiet air. Craig would do his damnedest to never let this happen again, or at least never have Ruby see him in such a state again. She would stay out of this, she was the only one safe in this house and will remain that way.

Hours had passed since the incident, Craig holed away in his room after his and Ruby's "moment." He was fuming, unable to move passed the fact his little sister had to watch something so horrible. He was supposed to protect her, be there for her when shit hit the fan like this, but their places switched. Ruby was there for him, today; a witness to a crime neither could do a thing about except for wait until it was over. The ringing of his phone interrupted Craig's furious internal monologue. He didn't quite recognize the number, but answered anyway, "Hello?"

"Craig?" a familiar broken voice came through the speaker. "It- it's Kenny. I- I need your help, I think I'm d-dying." Craig's heart stopped, the panic in Kenny's voice was so foreign to him.

"What's wrong? Where are you?" A million more questions were racing in his head. Why call him? Why isn't he getting real help? Did someone hurt him? Craig could feel the anxiety begin to press on his chest.

"M-my parents were fighting-" If there's a god, the raven thought, this story better not be going where he thinks it's going, "-about my mom being pregnant again. She's not taking care of herself anymore, she's gonna kill that god damn baby. She's gonna-" there was a pause and Craig could hear the faint sound of Kenny throwing up. "I fucking can't breathe," his voice sounded like it was being forced out, "m-my chest hurts, and I can't stop shaking and throwing up. I'm dying, I- fuck-"

"You're not dying," Craig finally said. The symptoms Kenny described sounded all too familiar to the raven. It was a panic attack, a violent one to say the least, but it was not anything fatal as long as Kenny kept breathing and was drinking water. "Kenny it's a panic attack, you're having a panic attack and you need to relax."

"What-"

"-sit down where ever you are, just sit down," Craig waited a second for the blond to follow. "Tuck your head between your knees, and focus on breathing. Is there any water you can drink?"

"I'm at a payphone," the blond's voice sounded dejected, tired. At least his panicking had subsided slightly.

"Alright where, I'll come get you-"

"No, no it's fine. I'm actually gonna come over once this is over with, if that's okay."

"Yeah, yeah I guess so," Craig couldn't help but sigh a sigh of relief. "Dumb question, but are you-"

  
_Click_.

"...Or not," Craig put his phone down, pulled out his laptop and began watching is favorite episodes of Portlandia in an attempt to forget the day.

Kenny pulled up a few hours later in the rusty old pick-up truck he stole from Kevin, the sun beginning to set. When Craig hoped in, he noticed a few things. The first were the bloodstains on the sleeve of Kenny's parka, then the tears still stinging his eyes, and lastly how white the blond's knuckles were while he gripped the steering wheel, jaw clenched tight. Craig also noticed the stench of alcohol, weed, and something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Of course, it could have been just the truck, or a mix of the blond and the dirty vehicle. Neither said a word when Kenny began to drive away.

A few tense moments passed before Craig cleared his throat, "Do you need to talk-"

"Not right now. When I get to where the hell I wanna be, have a beer or twelve, then we can fucking talk."

"Okay, asshole," Craig couldn't help his response, neither could Kenny and both seemed to understand that. The bruises were more than noticeable at this point, the raven concluded. Both boys had one shit storm of a day.

It was nightfall by the time the truck was turned off. It was parked in the middle of an empty field, the moon and stars clearly visible away from the town. Both boys were now sitting in the hood of the old truck, a cooler between the two of them, empty cans crushed and dispersed on the earth. No one spoke for a long time, their minds as far away as the stars in the sky. Kenny crushed another can and threw it down before opening yet another, Craig was still in his third, but feeling the effects of the alcohol.

"Are you ready to talk yet?" Craig broke the silence.

"I guess,"  Kenny took a deep breath and a final swig of the beer, crushed the can, and threw it down before opening another one. "So you know how my mom is pregnant?"

"Yeah, wasn't she going to abort it?"

"That's what she and Dad were fighting about. They decided to keep it, though, and that's why I freaked out. I don't want it to end up like me."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't die," Kenny sighed, his voice slurred ever so slightly. Craig was so caught off guard that the only response was a short confused noise. "I. Can't. Die," Kenny repeated himself. "Shit it's still weird to say that out loud."

"Why can't you die?" Craig asked.

"Well, like. That's a long fucking story-"

"I have time."

"Okay. Well, like. Fucking. My parents have never really been good people, right? No surprise there. They've always been drug abusin', piece of shit alcoholics, but sometimes they can clean up their act."

"Weird."

"Exactly. They usually only do it if Mom's knocked up, though. She's a lot smarter than people give her credit for, you know. So like, she and dad fucking were perfect when Kevin came out. Clean and sober all nine months, which is why he turned out better than all of us. When she had Karen, though, me an' Kev had to hide some of the shit she and dad was usin'. I think she turned out okay, though. Better than me, but everyone and their brother turned out better than me," Kenny laughed bitterly. He leaned back and looked up at the stars. "They drank a lot, more than they usually do now; especially before they knew they were havin' another baby. Shit, they would get trashed so often I feel like half my fuckin' blood supply was straight alcohol. They didn't even pay for half the shit they drank, tho. They went to places that had free booze most often, and one time they went to a Cthulhu cult meeting."

"Yikes," both boys locked eyes for a minute. Craig took this moment to realize how blue Kenny's eyes really were, like the color of a cloudless sky on a summer day. The kind of day that wasn't too hot, but warm with a light breeze. Beautiful- Craig stopped himself in his tracks, realizing he leaned in just a little bit, Kenny doing the same. He shifted uncomfortably as the silence went on. "So," he began slowly, "what happened next?"

"Fuck if I know," Kenny leaned back, the tension in the air dropping like a dead animal. "All I know is that bullshit is probably why I'm fucked over and immortal."

"That's... Awful. Really," the raven looked into the night sky. He had finished his fourth beer by now and was working on his fifth, the world was falling away. They were alone with only the stars as an audience. 

"Wait you believe me?" Kenny asked in a bit of disbelief. He was expecting Craig to call bullshit, make fun of him, and want to be taken home. Craig continued to look at the sky, analyzing each ball of fire millions of miles away.

He nodded slowly, "It explains a lot."

"What do you mean?"

"I remember getting a call from Tweek about you killing yourself, it felt really familiar, and next thing I know, I see you at school," the boy extended a hand to point at the sky, "there's Orion, by the way."

"Holy fuck," Kenny began, ignoring the constellation. Someone remembered! Someone that wasn't Butters knew, believed him, and remembered. "Holy fucking shit," Kenny, in his drunk stupor, couldn't help but to grab the taller boy's face and kiss him.

When they broke apart, Craig did not miss a beat before pulling the blond back in, fervently and awkward. The cooler set between them, empty, slid away and hit the ground with a hollow thud. It was contact, loving, and Craig had been craving it since the day shit hit the fan. He held Kenny close, tight, afraid to let go as the kiss became more and more passionate, aggressive almost. Tongues collided, teeth clicked, lips smacked. Craig pulled away just enough to speak, not even opening his eyes. "Is there somewhere else we can do this? I'm gonna slip off this goddam thing."

The whole situation had a sobering affect on Kenny, it seemed to be doing the opposite to the raven haired  boy in front of him. "If you're really sure about this," the blond muttered back to him.

"I am, I am, please." Craig's voice sounded almost broken as the two slid off the hood and made their way into the backseat of Kenny's truck, a single seat extended across. The boys resumed, the passion at the same intensity, only increasing. Craig's long fingers found their way from matted blond hair to the dirty collar of an orange parka.

Kenny broke away, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Craig snapped, tugging at the fabric, "I'm fucking sure, stop asking me that." The blond sighed, and let the eager boy pull off the parka. When Craig ran his hands down the newly freed forearms, he stopped.

"What the shit is this?" he asked, feeling what could only be deep gashes in pale skin.

"I could ask you the same thing," was Kenny's only response as he slowly pulled off Craig's favorite hoodie, exposing both their wounds now. The raven simply rolled his eyes and went back in, the tugging in his chest, the overall yearning taking over. 

Clothes were shed, hands roamed, breathing quickened, hearts pounded.

Before Kenny entered, before the relationship was finally established, before any type of regret could be made, he asked once more, his voice quiet. "Are you really sure about this, Craig? I need 100% from you before anything else goes farther."

"Yes," the raven practically cried, "Yes, I'm 100% fucking positive. Please just," his voice broke, unable to finish the sentence. He needed this, Craig thought. He needed this more than anything. Something that wasn't hate, that wasn't abuse.

Silent tears began to spill, hidden in the darkness, but not from the pain. He needed this,  _god_  how he needed this. Contact in the most human form, nothing could make him feel more real, more safe. Craig croaked out a near inaudible, "Thank you," but it was buried beneath the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

Craig wouldn't remember what happened after that, his mind blacking out after that moment, that last thank you. He would, though, sleep the best since the day he found out his father would never love him again, since he found out his illegitimacy, since his mother started drinking again, since his family fell apart. 


	9. Baby I Got The Death Rattle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And you, you are an angel  
> That's why you pray  
> And I am an ass  
> That's why I bray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow an early chapter!!! congrats. it's not much, just a filler chapter based on a comic i did that you can find here:  
> http://crxnny.tumblr.com/post/141348069436/near-the-end-i-got-kinda-lazy-but-heres-a-bunny  
> fun fact, i think this is the lightest (and shortest, sorry) chapter written hha  
> Chapter title/summary: Baby I Got The Death Rattle by Los Campesinos  
> Warnings: Rape mention, self harm mention, alcoholism mention, drug abuse mention, suicide mention

It was morning, the sun shining through dirty windows highlighting every dust particle, every chip, crack, water damage stain, and tear on the sickly green wallpaper. The carpet was stained a million shades of brown, covered in crushed cans, used needles, porno mags. The walls covered in posters as an attempt to cover the damage done to them both intentionally and not. 

A young boy stood in the doorway, tapping his knuckles together, a nervous habit he had since his childhood. He looked at the mass under dirty blue sheets on top of two old mattresses placed on one another to be called a bed. The boy looked at his feet, clad in a pair of Mary Janes and white knee high stockings that he hid from his father. A black mid-thigh skirt and a pink sweater two sizes two big completed the look. The look his father hated, beat him for, raped him for. The boy's hands shook, his throat tight no matter how many times he tried to clear it. He looked at the pile of blue once again, and forced his voice to work.

"Ken?" he began, slowly regaining courage. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, already red from rosacea, but now deeper. When there was no reply, he continued. "Hey, Kenny." A moment passed, there was a small shift beneath the blankets. "Kenny, I- I saw you weren't at- at school lately so I w-was wonderin' if you were okay or not. I don't know, Ken, I- I'm just real worried about you, that's all..." Several too long minutes passed before there was another shift in the blankets. Straw blond hair peeked out beneath blue, and a too thin, too pale, and confused Kenny sat up slowly, squinting in the light.

After a moment of processing where he was, he looked over, making eye contact with the boy at the door. "Hey Leo," he smiled.

Butters shifted, not quite used to people using his real name. He didn't know what to say next, he got this far, but was not thinking ahead. Kenny sat up completely, wrapping his naked body in the dirty sheet and turning to face the light blond, sitting indian style. At this point, Butters noticed the pink tint to Kenny's face along with the dark bags under his eyes, he looked terrible to say the least. "You alright?" Butters nodded. "Wanna sit down?" Another nod as the small boy carefully made his way over, watching out for the pieces of garbage on the floor; Butters swore he saw a spilled case of rat poison, but didn't double take to check. "What's up, Buttercup?"

"Nothin' m-much, just checkin' to see if you were al-alright," the light blond said, looking at his lap, bumping and rubbing his knuckles together.

"Why?"

"You haven't been at school l-lately and I was gettin' worried."

"Well, I'm fine," Kenny shrugged.

"You don't look or sound okay," Butters said, a bit of edge to his voice. His eyebrows furrowed, angry.

"But I am, I promise."

"You look sick as a dog, Ken!" Butters accidentally shouted, scaring himself. He never liked yelling, even when it was from him. Kenny sighed and leaned against the dingy wall.

"I'm drunk, Butters. Like, w _ay_  fucked up, dude."

"Why?"

"Stuff," another shrug. Kenny wasn't too fond of sharing his personal life since it started falling apart. No one had to know, especially not Butters.

"You," Butters licked his lips, nervous and unsure how to phrase his question. "You haven't been killin' yourself again, right?"

A thick silence fell over the pair of blonds. Kenny stared at the smaller, face blank, but his eyes held some type of calculating to them. As if he was trying to read Butters's mind. Seconds that felt like minutes passed before Kenny croaked out a "What" that was phrased more like a statement than a question. 

"What do you mean, what?" Was Butters initial reply, the air becoming tense; something he was all too used to.

"I mean, how the fuck do you know about that?" Kenny was now the one being angry, sobering up just a bit, but the alcohol still driving his emotions.

"I- I always known!"

"Bull _shit_!"

"I'm not lyin'!"

"You haven't 'always known'!" The blanket fell off Kenny's shoulders, gathering at his waist. "I've been trying to convince all of you I couldn't die since I was fuckin' ten. No one ever fuckin' believed me. If you know, I would have figured that shit out. So, no. You- you can't know," Kenny felt his anger die down slowly, being replaced with a familiar empty feeling. You can't remember. No one ever remembers. It's the whole reason why it's a curse because no one remembers."

Too long moments of silence passed between the boys. The atmosphere was tense, thick enough to cut with a knife. They sat there for a moment, Kenny spotted a pair of pants on the floor and decided it was a good idea to talk about this clothed. He walked over, still covering himself with a sheet, and began to pull them on. Butters played with the hem of his skirt, looking at the the bruises and small scars from constantly running and bumping his knuckles together. He looked up, "I don't understand why you're so upset about this, Ken," he took a shaky breath. "I- I mean if you've been tryin' to get people to remember I'd think you'd be happy to hear I knew."

"Butters," Kenny began, his voice had lost a bit of edge, "I'm not mad that you know, I'm just pissed you didn't tell me sooner."

"I didn't know if I was crazy or what," Butters began, slowly. "People kept callin' you crazy so I just thought we were in the same boat," he looked back at his lap and played with his fingers. Tears welled in his eyes as the next like came, "All-in-all, it was just  _hard_. Hard hearin' the news, hard goin' to the funerals then seeing you back the next day," Butters sniffled, tear drops running down pink cheeks. "I'm real sorry, Ken." The blond rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, trying to force himself to stop crying. It was useless, Butters thought, he didn't have control anymore. Kenny pulled on his parka and sat back down.

"Hey, hey, hey," Kenny tried to shush his friend, "it's okay. Don't cry." Butters simply uttered more apologies, face buried in scarred hands. "Don't be sorry, Butters, this isn't your fault." Kenny moved to put an arm around the smaller boy, but the flinch away said enough. Butters was not the same since his dad found out everything.

"I just-" he coughed. "I just remember always hearin' news, and if it was real out there like- like you gettin' hit by a plane or something like that, it wasn't so bad. But, Ken, you're  _killin' yourself_?!" Butters snapped up and glared at Kenny, tears rolling and screamed, " _Why didn't you just talk to me!?_ " 

Kenny looked at the blond, who resumed sobbing into his hands. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Anything he would say now would come out as a mistake. So Kenny stood up and did what he knew best. He went to the kitchen, grabbed two beers, handed one to Butters when he returned and sat down again. Kenny heaved a sigh, "We have a lot to talk about..."

Kenny woke up, the ceiling of his car the first thing he saw. The second was a sleeping, and naked, Craig, snoring ever so lightly on his chest. The sun peeked through the windows, highlighting every dust particle in its rays. Today was September 11th, Butters's eighteenth birthday. 


	10. Highspeeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired  
> I've been waiting for you  
> I'm so tired and I need to lay down  
> But you're traveling high speeds  
> And you're fast  
> Too fast to chase anymore  
> You're too fast to chase anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry about the delay in a post, but i felt it wouldn't have been right to post after the orlando shooting, also i just couldn't bring myself out of bed that day. i'm really sorry, but here we are.   
> Chapter title/summary: Highspeeds by Elliot Moss  
> Warnings: death mention, lowkey self harm mention, this is a really light chapter

Kenny waited patiently for Craig to wake up, wallowing in the void that was his chest. Today was the second hardest day of the year, the first being the anniversary of Butters's death, but that was yet to come. Kenny looked at the dirty ceiling of his truck, the sun highlighting every stain. It had been so long since he actually had sex with someone he knew, someone he cared about. Kenny was almost worried about the outcome. They were both drunk, Craig a little more gone than the blond; would he be pissed about what happened? Would he wake up, realize they had sex and flip shit about how he was taken advantage of? Oh god, Kenny thought, he wouldn't know what to do if Craig was angry. Kenny didn't know what he'd do about a lot of things, right now. A side affect of never ending sadness. The real question was if Kenny would even react to Craig's anger, or would he just brush it off into the void with the rest of his feelings? So many questions continued to boil around in the blond's head, his eyes never leaving the same spot of the stained ceiling. He absentmindedly began to run a gentle hand through Craig's hair, playing with the soft locks. Kenny was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Craig stirring slightly, working on waking up.

Warm, was the raven's initial thought. He felt so warm. His second was that he felt safe, the arms around him were so comforting, he didn't want to leave. A part of him was uncomfortable, another part felt relieved, the third was just exhausted and really feelings the effects of a hangover. Craig furrowed his eyebrows, eyes still closed, in frustration. His brain finally waking up fully, the sun was shining right in his eyes. That's when Craig felt it. Skin. That's all there was, no clothing, just skin. He was naked, and laying on top of someone else, who was also naked. "Fuck me," he groaned.

"Mission already accomplished. How you feelin'?" an equally tired voice responded. It took Craig a second to realize who it was, his eyes still closed in a half assed attempt to still be sleeping.

"Everything hurts."

"Just wait until you have to walk," there was an unfamiliar hollowness in Kenny's voice.

"Shit."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, just never realized that sex would be this much of a bitch. How do you do it?"

"Experience," Kenny paused. "Wait. Are you- are you a virgin?" Kenny didn't like the idea of taking someone's virginity, especially if they were drunk and wanted an actual good, special time, sober. 

"Not anymore, but I don't really care. The concept of virginity is just some stupid fucking social construct created to make women hate themselves, give men another reason to make fun of each other, and engrave fear into the hearts of many," Craig sighed, finally cracking his eyes open and looking up at the blond beneath him. "Just in case you thought I was saving myself for someone special."

"Gee, thanks asshole. Nice to know I'm not special," Kenny barely huffed a laugh, running his fingers delicately along the raven's shoulder blades.

"If it's any consolation, this is the best I've felt since my not-father started hating me." Kenny wished he could have agreed. The sex was great, he wouldn't deny that, it was just a bad day where emotions didn't exist. "Are you alright?"

There was a long pause, as thick as frozen butter. Kenny stopped running Craig's back, his chest felt heavy, it hurt like a spoon was being slowly stabbed into his heart, which is something Kenny had experienced before.

"It's Butters's birthday," he said quietly, his throat slowly closing, choking him trying to suppress the oncoming storm of tears that would never show.

"Oh," Craig looked down again, avoiding any form of eye contact. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Is there anything I could do to help?"

"Can you-" Kenny was almost embarrassed to make his request. Almost. "Can you just stay with me today?"

"Of course, yeah, anything for you, dude."

And he did. The two awkwardly dressed in the back of the truck, picked up the cooler that was forgotten outside the previous night, and made their way back to South Park. Neither said much, Craig unsure of what to say and Kenny just too tired to talk.

Craig went with Kenny to the local florist, waited for him to pick out the perfect bouquet, and paid for them. He followed Kenny to the grave yard, and sat with him in front of Butters's headstone. He slowly reached over and took the blond's hand, for himself and for Kenny. "No one else came today," Kenny sighed, voice dead, face tired. "No one ever comes, really, every time I've been here there's been no evidence of other people. It's sad, really.

"More people come to my grave when I'm gone for a while, but I'm the biggest piece of shit there is. Butters, he- he never did anything wrong, and no one ever comes." Kenny was crying at this point, a rare occurrence, and Craig was unsure what to do. So he said nothing, and gave Kenny's hand a reassuring squeeze.

Craig had always been afraid of death, afraid of that unspeakable void of the afterlife. Even with someone who experienced it constantly, who knew what happened and wasn't afraid, Craig was still afraid. The raven would have been long gone if he was never afraid. He remembered, on the rare occasion Butters would come over, talking with the little blond about it. Butters was afraid, too. Craig almost envied him for over coming and getting out.

"I can't find him," Kenny broke the silence once more. Craig looked over, confused. "When I die, before I go back, I look for him. In hell, I mean."

"Why would he be there?"

"Only Mormons go to heaven, unless you're a special case. Hell really isn't that bad, though, I just. I want to find him," there was an unmistakable sound of desperation in Kenny's voice, one that made Craig's heart hurt.

"Maybe," Craig began slowly, "maybe he doesn't want to be found."

Kenny whipped his head around, looking at Craig as if he just shot a baby point blank in the head. His expression morphed into that of fury, new tears stinging his eyes. This was not a new expression to Craig, except for the tears, and it made the raven's breath hitch. He was afraid, Kenny was furious. No one moved, no one said anything. Craig noticed the surplus of these moments; the ones so tense he was drowning, where it was so quiet a pin dropping would shatter the atmosphere. He let go of Kenny's hand, cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he muttered and stood, beginning to leave.

In a moment of desperation and fear of loneliness, Kenny reached out and grabbed Craig's wounded wrist, causing him to hiss in pain. The look in Kenny's eyes was indescribable, but it spoke paragraphs to Craig, the exact emotion Craig understood. He sat back down and wrapped an arm around Kenny's shoulders, holding him close, protecting him from the cold fear of being alone.

They sat there until the sun set, never speaking another word. For the first time in a long time, Kenny was afraid of dying


	11. Jesus Christ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again  
> So what did you do those three days you were dead?  
> Cos this problems gonna last more than the weekend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha here I am late but not horribly late. I'm sorry if it seems rushed in the end, I wrote the second half in roughly an hour so I could get this thing published. Sorry but not sorry  
> Chapter title/summary: Jesus Christ by Brand New  
> Warnings: anxiety mention, violence, suicide mention, i think that's it

Weeks passed, Craig and Kenny only becoming closer together. It was only a month later when they finally confirmed a relationship. It happened after another night together, both laying in the dark, breathing heavily, and covered in each other's sweat, when Craig asked if they were dating. Kenny replied with a nod and a quiet, "If you want us to be." The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, getting the most rest either has had in a while.

It was no more than three days later when Clyde approached Craig since the raven made the mistake of kissing him in the boys bathroom. "Craig, can we talk?" The bell had long since rang and the boys were alone in the hallway, classes forgotten.

"What about?" Clyde looked at his friend, frustrated and confused.

"What do you mean what about? We need to talk about what happened the last time I saw you. You've been avoiding me for too long, Tucker." At this point, Craig was essentially backed into a nearby corner, unable to escape the conversation.

"Ooh," he mumbled, unamused, and growing anxious, "we're using last names now? Is that supposed to intimidate me? Maybe I've been avoiding you for a reason, _Donovan_." The raven spat his name like poison.

"Why are you so defensive, dude? I'm not, like, mad or anything!" Clyde threw is arms out in frustration, not catching the quick flinch from the taller.

"Well, maybe if you didn't back me into a fucking corner like some goddam animal, I'd be a little nicer," Craig glared, crossing his arms, hiding the panic from the previous sudden movement.

"I," Clyde took a few steps back, leaving a bigger space in between the two, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to corner you like that, dude. I just, I've been thinking a lot-"

"That's a first."

"I'm being serious, Craig, I really need you to listen to me," Clyde shifted. "Can we... Can we go somewhere else?"

Craig rolled his eyes, "I guess." He proceeded to follow the brunet down the hall to the same bathroom Craig made his mistake in. He could feel his chest get a little tighter with the thought. Was Clyde going to end their friendship here? Tell him he's too much of a fag to be around, and leave the raven right where he fucked up the most? Craig could feel his anxiety getting the best of him, and cast his eyes downward.

"Look, Craig, since you," Clyde cleared his throat. He looked just as uncomfortable as Craig did. "Since you kissed me, I've been really, really confused. Because I like girls, I know I do, but... I also..." the brunet lowered his voice to something practically inaudible as his cheeks and ears became a light pink, "I liked kissing you." Craig's mouth went dry as the words hit him. He couldn't find the actual words to say and stared at his shorter friend, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape. He could help but take a few steps back. This didn't make any sense.

"I don't understan-" Craig was promptly cut off by none other than Clyde's mouth. The raven was yanked down by the strings of his chullo and into a kiss. There was a brief moment where it felt like the world stopped moving, the clocks stopped ticking, where everything fell away and it was just Clyde and Craig, lips locked but not yet moving. The latter stared wide eyed at the brunet for just a second before shoving him off. "Dude, what the fuck? Why am I not allowed to do that but you are?" Craig couldn't decide if he was angry or just aggressively confused, but there was enough edge in his voice to make Clyde turn a darker shade of red and shy away.

"I've been reading," he began as quiet as before, "and noticed that seemed the best way to get my point across."

Craig realized at this very minute, he had two options: The first being ask for an apology, calmly resolve the situation, and move on. The second was to pull a dick move much like when the positions were reversed and get the hell out of there. The first option was obviously the best, but second option sounded a lot more pleasing to the tall asshole, so he took it and ran. "I have a boyfriend, Clyde, you can't just kiss me willy-nilly like some smooth asshole now."

"Wha...?"

"Kenny and I are dating," the words sounded foreign on the raven's tongue, but it felt nice to say. As if he were probing to himself he was capable of love, and being loved. And with that, Craig was gone. Clyde stood by himself in the boys bathroom, abandoned again by his best friend, still awestruck that his best friend would date someone like Kenny, and then be such a fuckwad about it. Actually, the brunet thought as he touched his tingling lips, the fuckwad part was believable, but Kenny was not Craig's healthiest choice. Clyde stared at the bathroom door. He and Craig were in the same class this period, so going back was the worst option. So he sat down in the corner to wait for the bell.

During football practice, Clyde tried not to look up at the bleachers. He knew Craig was up there, the kid formed habits easily and had a hard time getting out of them. There was no chance of Craig doing something else during is free period. The only time Clyde looked was when he saw an orange figure make its way up instead of the usual green. Clyde really didn't know what else he expected, but it seemed Tweek was able to stay in his class for once. Clyde frowned, that teacher was so unfair to the kid. He also bit back a sudden wave of something Clyde didn't quite figure out- anger? Jealousy? Aggressive confusion? -when he saw Kenny drape his parka over Craig's shoulders and pull him close. Disgusting. Clyde stopped himself, he did not have the right to behave this way, but he couldn't seem to mask the anger forming in the pit of his stomach, like a small flame newly ignited.

The more days that passed, the more Craig avoided Clyde. He skipped more, or positioned himself farthest away from his friend. Or would Clyde be considered an ex-friend now? It didn't matter, though, the only thing that mattered was the pain in the football stars heart and the flame in his belly. Both were worsening. And upon a fateful class change, he and Kenny ran into each other.

"Jesus, fuck, sorry," Kenny sputtered, the impact knocking him out of his usual self loathing daze. He looked down at Clyde, who seemed angry. It didn't fit his face well.

"How about you watch where the hell you're going, asshole," Clyde tried to make his escape to no avail. He was stopped dead by the blond.

"Geez. What's up your ass, lately?"

"Like you don't know!" The short brunet whipped around, his outburst stopping the other students in the hall. No one spoke for a second, Kenny trying to process the situation at hand, Clyde shaking with a mix of emotions he couldn't identify. If one listened closely, there was a student or two quietly chanting the word "fight." After a few more tense moments, Kenny came to a conclusion.

"I don't, Clyde. I really, honestly don't fucking know," he held his hands up, palms open as an attempted sign of peace. "What the hell did I do this time?" The brunet opened his mouth, ready to point out Kenny's new relationship with his best friend, but stopped. The school was watching. Oh boy, Clyde thought as he closed his mouth, I really dug myself into a hole, didn't I? Whatever, Clyde clenched his fists, he'll solve this the old fashioned way. He walked up to Kenny, who didn't quite have as many inches as Craig did- but, face it, no one's height rivaled Craig's. The kid was a giant. Kenny was still quite tall, though, and like most boys in South Park, was taller than Clyde significantly. The brunet still kept his pace, only about a foot from the blond. He pulled back a fist, ready to strike when a certain pale light post stepped in.

"Clyde what the fuck!" Craig shoved the stout kid back.

"Craig, babe, it wasn't going to be anything serious," Kenny said quiet enough so only a few people could hear, rather than the whole school.

"I don't give a rats ass how this would turn out, Clyde's still being an irrational asshat."

"Dude, I wasn't going to hit him. I was just gonna give him a warning. I didn't mean it!" Clyde couldn't get his mouth to stop, this would just make his best friend more angry. The crowd and attention was giving him anxiety, and Clyde knew Craig channeled his anxiety best through anger in front of people. Clyde knew a lot of things about Craig, yet his mouth kept moving, making up excuses, pissing off his best friend.

"You're a shitty person Clyde," Craig finally interrupted, "and I tolerated that for _years_ , but this is ridiculous. You're jealous because I'm dating someone, but you're the one who still calls me a faggot. Who the fuck do you think you are, Clyde? You're not hot shit, you can't get away with something like that," Craig advanced forward, limbs shaking. He apparently looked intimidating, though, because as he backed Clyde into the lockers, the crowd seemed to part to avoid the both of them. Clyde looked up, never breaking eye contact yet, not even when his head smacked against the cold metal behind him. "You can't call your friends a faggot and pull this 'I think I like you,' thing," Craig could feel his face becoming red, but not as deep as Clydes had. "Next time you wanna be a homophobic asshole, either look in the mirror or be sure you're as straight as you say you are. Now you're not just a shitty person, Clyde, you're a shitty friend!"

None of the three, Kenny, Craig, or Clyde, said a word for a while. The students, on the other hand, began to whisper excitedly. "Clyde's gay?" "Clyde likes Craig? I thought he and Bebe were a thing." "Oh shit wait till Bebe hears!" Clyde listened to each student, each accusation and assumption of his sexuality, keeping the flame of anger inside quiet. Until, "Clyde's a fucking faggot." The flame then became an inferno.

"You know _what_ , Craig?" He shouted, startling said boy. "Fuck you! Fuck you, and fuck Kenny, and fuck this friendship!"

"Clyde, wait-"

"No shut up, I'm sick of you humiliating me for the day! I'm sorry I was confused, but you kissed me first! You started this shit first! You're still the faggot, and forget everything I said!"

"You're the one who kissed me today!" Craig screamed right back. It was strange to hear his usual monotone voice so loud. Clyde snapped, curling his hand into a fist and swinging a solid right hook into Craig's jaw.

" _Shut up_!"

Craig was on the floor from the impact, body shaking violently, eyes wide from fear. It took Clyde a second before he processed what hand happened. He covered his mouth, tearing up. "Oh my god." He made a move to help his friend, but was stopped by a certain blond.

"I think you should go," Kenny said, tone dark and intimidating.

"I'm so sorry," Clyde choked back tears. "I'm so-" and he was gone. The crowd was silent. The only thing heard was the shaking breath of Craig. A teacher finally made her way into the middle, ignoring the two boys on the ground, Kenny trying to comfort his boyfriend.

"Everyone back to class!" She shrieked. "You're all getting written up, and if you skip that's a three hour detention!" The students groaned, making their ways to their respective rooms. "You too, boys," she glared at the pair on the floor, Craig now curled in on himself. Kenny looked up slowly at the teacher.

"Suck my ass," he said cooly, flicking her off. She stared, mouth and eyes wide. They held the staring contest for only seconds, Kenny's empty eyes enough to win anyone over. Being the boy who's best friend killed himself had its perks sometimes. The teacher scoffed and stomped off, back to her hobit hole or some shit. Kenny looked back at his lover, "Craig," he said softly, "everyone's gone, it's okay."

Craig looked up slowly, tears streaming down his cheeks, dripping off his bruised jaw. " _Fuck_ ," he managed to work out of his shivering form before collapsing into the comfort of Kenny's parka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone realized Clyde high key read some gay fanfiction before confronting Craig. Just letting yall know this story is 100% awful sadness i can be funny too lmao js


	12. Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadows settle on the place, that you left.  
> Our minds are troubled by the emptiness.  
> Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time.  
> From the perfect start to the finish line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello its ur friendly neighborhood cal who takes five years to update their fic. i am actually sorry about that, tho. shit happened and time got away from me. heres an early update w some extra feels as an apology. ((also i couldnt find a better fitting song/summary/title thing for this ch sorry (if u have a suggestion feel free to comment one! bc i rlly dont think this fits at all lmao)))  
> chapter title/summary: youth by daughter  
> warnings: (........so much) self harm ment, abuse ment, death ment, homophobic slurs, lowkey panic attack ment, alcohol ment, weird body desc, cartman

When Eric Cartman returned to South Park, it was not silent.

Almost immediately, the students erupted into a panic. Group texts were sent rapidly, phone calls were made in masses. Tensions became high enough to reach the stars.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, Craig was not left out of the panic, he was ripped from the peace of being alone with Kenny by a frightened phone call from none other than Tweek.

"I'm freaking out, man, freaking out! This is too much pressure, too much, man! If- if he snaps again- ngh, oh god, man! This is too much!" It continued like this for several minutes, mixed with flurries of spasms and the occasional yelp. Craig, who had his head in Kenny's lap, listened carefully and replied calmly, slowly getting Tweek to breathe normally. The end of their conversation dwindled to both parties speaking just above a whisper.

"You're not going to die," Craig repeated once more. Kenny counted the raven said that at least thirty times prior.

"I'm not going... to die," Tweek breathed.

"School's gonna go on like normal, and you're going to be there."

"School's gonna go on like normal, and I'm gonna be there."

"You are safe, and we will be okay."

"I'm safe, and we're gonna be okay."

"Meet me on the bleachers tomorrow, alright?"

"Ngh... okay, I'll be there."

"Drink some coffee, Tweek," Craig sighed as he hung up his phone. "Sorry about that." Kenny shrugged, absentmindedly playing with Craig's dark hair.  
"Not gonna lie, I expected that sooner or later. Since shit's gone sideways with just the idea of Cartman fucking coming back, Kyle's been having more of those damned episodes or whatever the fuck you wanna call 'em, and then..." Kenny hesitated.

"Me?"

"Yeah... Sorry." Craig shrugged, uncaring. By now, the entirety of South Park knew about his familial situation. Shit never stayed secret for long, and Thomas didn't try to keep his actions hidden. Deep purple bruises were a new constant on Craig. A black eye was no longer foreign to him, nor was his body being in constant pain. Laura also had disappeared, leaving both children behind. Gone in the dead of night, no note whatsoever, no signs of where she could have gone. Craig thought she ran off to her sister's in North Park given the family trait of running from problems, but gossip characteristically escalated to the idea of Thomas killing her.

Craig hated that man, knew the violence he was capable of, but Thomas wasn't a murderer. He and Ruby had a long talk about their mother and the rumors. Craig never realized having a mute sister had the benefit of being a human recording device. Her silence could make her invisible, her brother soon found out there was almost nothing in South Park she didn't know. Which is how they concluded Laura was just out of town, too afraid of her mistakes to return any time soon. Craig sighed, and looked up at Kenny. The two were at his house, in his room. It was the dead of night, both of Kenny's parents were blacked out, too drunk to function. Karen was no longer living under the roof, a permanent guest at the Broflovski's, an offer both Kevin and Kenny refused.

Craig's phone and chullo rested on his too flat stomach, his t-shirt riding up ever so slightly. It was rare to see the raven in his usual navy hoodie, but he was comfortable enough within Kenny's presence to let his walls down, to show his weakness. Kenny knew better than to stare or touch the sandpaper feeling skin, rough with the hundreds of thin lines of scabs. "You know what I think about any time someone brings up Thomas?"

"I don't."

"This one skit from Portlandia where Carrie and Fred are on the phone just jumping around and telling the person on the other end 'You gotta get out of there! You gotta get out! You gotta!' over and over," Craig closed his eyes, thinking of just the other day. "It's become my fucking life now. Like someone at school pointed out my fancy new black eye and was spouting all this bullshit," he lowered his voice to a mocking tone. "'Dude, you need to get out of that house, man. It's not healthy. That shit's now safe, my man,' like fuck you, it's not that easy!" The raven huffed, looking back into the tired sky of his boyfriend's eyes.

"They all have a point, though," Kenny mumbled, attempting to braid the short locks.

"Like you have the fucking right," Craig spat, sitting up and pulling his chullo back on. "Whatever, I need a smoke," he stood and slipped his hoodie back on.

"You can smoke in here," Kenny placed a hand on the boys wrist, he could feel him trembling, another new constant. "I'm sorry, I fucked up again. Don't do this to me, Craig. Just. Can you sit with me? Please?" Craig turned around to face the blond. Being with him, Craig learned the soul crushing fear of loneliness that plagued Kenny. It broke his heart to see the pain behind his eyes, the fear of losing someone he loved again. The raven sighed and sat back down, taking a hold of Kenny's hand. He pulled out and lit a cigarette, expertly with one hand.

"Only because you're the fucking worst."

"Love you, too."

Later that night, the two found their lips locked and hands roaming. The power had gone out, making Kenny's room darker than the midnight sky. Craig found himself pinned, pressed into the bed with Kenny's leg resting comfortably between his. The raven's thin fingers couldn't help but run up the blond's protruding ribcage as the latter found his hands down the back of his boyfriend's pants.

Craig bit back a moan when Kenny began to nibble at his neck, working way too slowly down his pale, naked torso. Kenny only paused when Craig pulled off the old band tee.  
Desperation filled the air, they craved this closeness. They needed it. The only thing to make them feel whole was this bond. The feeling of skin on skin contact, that they were the only things in the world at the time, just accompanied by their love. The passion was intoxicating and so, so warm.

They each would breathe the other's name as if it would be the last thing on their lips. They clung to one another, nails digging into skin as if the other would be lost if they let gom It was just them. Just Kenny and Craig. Together. Two dumb teenagers engaging in dumb sex, preparing to take on the world together.

* * *

 

Craig woke the following morning, curled into Kenny's bare chest but not out of reach of the morning sun. Kenny seemed to already be awake, rubbing circles on the raven's back. "You were having a nightmare last night," he began, voice low and tired. "Woke me up, haven't slept since."

"Sorry, I didn't even know. I don't even remember..." Craig trailed off, unsure of what to say. He, instead, pulled out of the warmth and began to dress. "We gotta get ready to go, though. I promised Tweek I'd be at school today."

"You can go," Kenny rolled over. "I'm staying home today. Gonna catch up on sleep and shit."

"You said that last time, the day before that, and, wow, the day before that. You and I also skipped school a week after the Clyde incident. I really need you today, too, with Cartman being back and all." Kenny laid motionless for a short amount of time, trying to come to some sort of decision. He hadn’t seen Eric since the shooting, given the fact that Kenny was dead for a bit longer than usual. He really, truly did not want to leave his bed today for that reason alone, but Craig needed him. So, Kenny sighed and threw the blanket off of himself.

“I’ll go, but only because you asked so nicely,” Kenny stood and gave Craig a quick kiss before pulling on his own clothing, one of those fake formal t-shirts and his only pair of jeans. “Gotta look fucking spiffy for Fatass’s welcome back party.” Craig chuckled and pushed the blond out the door.

“Can’t be late, either.”

“God for-fucking-bid.”

The morning began as usual, students happily chattering away about weekend activities and whatnot. Word of yet another melt down by Kyle was sent around, he apparently was on the street, screaming at his mother he was going to run away if he had to go to school. No one was quite sure about what had happened next, but everyone assumed he was being pulled out of school now. Stan explained to Craig and Kenny that Kyle was going to be homeschooled until further notice, refusing to go anywhere near South Park High. “That really sucks, man,” Kenny replied. “What are you gonna do without your best friend?”

“Fuckall, if I know,” Stan sighed. “I don’t see anyone else nearly as much as I saw Kyle during the day.”

“I’m really fucking sorry, dude, but you only got a few months left,” Craig added, most of his attention on his phone. Stan merely rolled his eyes, not comforted at all. “Tweek isn’t here yet…” the raven said to himself, worried. Kenny gave his boyfriend’s free hand a squeeze.

“Maybe it’s because the spaz is fucking dead,” a loud voice cut through the noise, making Craig jump, and silencing what felt like the whole school. “Overdosed on the meth in his coffee, or some shit.” Eric made his way closer to his old friends, parting the hall with each step. As he approached, everyone took the opportunity to stare.

Eric had slimmed down, but not enough to be a healthy weight. He mostly looked like he just grew into his body, but continued to fail at taking care of it. His hair was shorter, too, no longer concealed under a hat. Upon close examination, one could see Eric’s already dark brown eyes were darker, colder. There was something missing, though, that made everyone uncomfortable. “Where’s the police officer you’re supposed to have?” Stan asked, crossing his arms.

“Twenty bucks, and he’s gone for the day. Guy’s basically my bitch,” Eric looked around briefly. “Where’s the Jew? Don’t tell me we replaced him with this fag,” he gestured to Craig, who narrowed his eyes at the obese teen. “Wasn’t Butters enough?” The raven could feel Kenny tense up, jaw clenching,

“Real original, Fatass,” he rolled his eyes.

“Not as original as your current life story. It’s so cliche it makes every romcom look like a well thought out and brand new concept,” Eric laughed, then began to mock him. “Oh no I’m a faggot and my dad hits me! My mom’s also a huge slut with a big vagina, she’s probably getting it rammed real fucking good right now instead of saving my worthless ass!”

“Don’t,” Stan put his arm out, in front of Craig to stop him from doing anything rash. “Just go to class, the bell’s about to ring.” Craig said nothing, did nothing besides turn around and drag Kenny to their first period, muttering something about needing a smoke after a few steps. “Not even five minutes. Do you ever have anything better to do?”

“Get the sand out of your fucking vag, Stan, it was all in good fun,” Eric shrugged and began walking to his own first period. “Anyways, what can you do about it?: He paused, turning back around. “I know how you work, Stan, inside and out. One wrong move and I can tear you apart. I can take this whole school down, if I wanted to, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” A shiver went down the noirette’s spine. “Catch ya later, dude,” and he was gone, leaving Stan alone in an empty hallway, his blood now ice.

Oh, what has South Park gotten itself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh tell me if carto is too ooc, i hate writing him..,. and short chapter, but pls let me live im tired  
> also yes, hi. im a raging asexual but sexies are both important and common between these two nerds, so bear w me and use your imagination abt how they heck bc i only worry about the emotional part bc this shit is awk to write for someone who is awk lmao sorry if thats annoying.


	13. Sick, Sick, Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You made a mess of things  
> My what a mess you’ve made  
> I hate the way you make me feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI IM SORRY FOr hte unofficial hiatus. i've been procrastinating af then school started. but i got a new note book so i can write there in my free time (which is what i've been doing, keep your eyes peeled for a new fic coming soon!) but that's really it for my apology. i really do feel bad, tho, for leaving you all hanging. i don't mean to, i'm just tired all the time. also im sorry this chapter is so short? i tried to get as much into this thing without going into next chapter territory and had to stop here.  
> BIG NEWS THO PLEASE READ THIS AT LEAST: Falling Apart Together is almost over! i have about two chapters left to write after this one (next chapter is already in the works!) at the end of the whole story, though, i plan to make an 8tracks playlist with all the songs the chapters are named after and maybe some extra songs i wanted to use but they wouldnt fit (thanks to injuries on here who gave me the idea) but yea. two more chapters and that's it! exciting!!! (again keep an eye out for a new fic, i've been working on it a lot during school!)  
> onto the usual:  
> chapter title/summary: sick, sick, sick by bayside  
> warnings: bully mention, violence, drinking mention, heavy anxiety mention/anxiety attacks, self harm/eating disorder mention, suicide mention, homophobic slurs, abuse mention, cartman.

Craig couldn't understand why, but he became a personal favorite to harass since Eric returned. It seemed to make sense, though, with Kyle gone and a restraining order keeping the bully away from him, Craig was the next best thing. A bastard son with an abusive father and a missing mother, who just so happened to also be gay with a mute sister. Kenny tried his best to keep Craig calm around Eric, to keep him from going off the deep end and doing something he'd regret. The blond was struggling to keep peace as much as possible, but Eric was also using Butters to his advantage. The fat boy had both boys in the palm of his hand, controlling them like puppets.

It was becoming harder for Craig to come to school, but he would rather be anywhere other than home. It felt empty there, the energy only negative and laced with violence, the air stunk of whisky. His options were slim, especially now since Kevin caught the two skipping. He now accompanies Kenny and the occasional Craig to school, waiting by the doors for when they leave. “You're not learning Ken’s dirty habits,” Kevin told the raven the first day he walked him home. Kenny had killed himself the night prior and still hadn't returned. “You need to get out of this town, do something better with yourselves. Get better,” he added the last bit after a long pause, Craig not realizing the plural pronoun. And after an even longer one, the man sighed. “I miss him… I mean, he'll be back-” Craig stopped, midway through a drag of a cigarette. “-but it's still hard knowin he’s still pulling this shit. I bet it's hard on you, too. Just ain't fair…” Before Craig could say anything, Kevin had left with a quiet goodbye, leaving the noirette alone in front of his house.

That had taken place only two days ago, Kenny still not back from the grave, and no way to bring up the idea of Kevin remembering the immortality of his younger brother. Now Craig was at school, on his own, and awaited the oncoming torment for the day. Eric usually caught the raven on his way to a period they unfortunately shared, and would follow him all the way to the doors to the football field afterwards. It was easier with Kenny around. The blond would squeeze his hand, remind the raven he was better than Eric. Then he would leave his parka with Craig before heading to his own class, or would just skip and sit outside. Either way, Craig would have the warm orange coat that smelled strangely comforting besides the conditions.

The monotony of the day was almost enough to send Craig over the edge. Come to school, avoid Eric, go to class, avoid Clyde, change classes, avoid both of them, pretend to not exist, skip lunch to smoke, go to more classes, avoid Clyde, avoid Eric, go to free period, be tormented by Eric, sit on the bleachers to smoke, wait for Tweek, ignore Clyde, avoid Clyde, meet Kevin at the end of the day, go home, avoid Thomas. Everyday, going on three days without Kenny to change something up. Whether that be some stupid joke, or even take him somewhere entirely new. Craig missed him. Kevin had a point, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair in the sense Kenny could go whenever, enjoy the peace of death with no consequences. Just come back and it would be like nothing happened.

What was taking him so long anyways? Craig asked himself while mindlessly doodling on a scrap piece of paper, his teacher's voice pushed to the back of his head. He wondered if Kenny found Butters down there, yet. The raven had stopped asking about it after Butters’s birthday, and since seeing the violent reactions Kenny gave when anyone came off too insensitive. Craig remembered seeing Kenny almost deck so many people in the heat of tense conversation. If anyone, from Kevin to Eric, made some snide comment, even if it was unintentional, Craig would watch Kenny struggle to keep his hands at his sides. Sometimes the blond would lift an arm, sometimes his fist would make its way to end right in front of whoever’s face, Craig only to watch with wide eyes. The noirette began to hold Kenny's dominant hand a little more often to stop these scenes from going to the worst.

The bell rang, pulling Craig from his daydream. He pulled himself out of the chair, shouldering his bag, slouching a little more from the weight, and trudged out of the classroom. He was used to kids staring at him now- staring at the collection of bruises visible around his collar bones, neck, and face. Students always checked to see anything new, even if the current ones hadn’t faded just yet. Craig huffed, a wave of dark amusement washing over him. The school would shit itself if they ever saw the rest of him. A too thin body made of only bones, abdomen and chest constantly decorated with deep purple and brown, arms covered with scars and scabs, his legs looking no better. He often wondered how Kenny loved him enough to see all of that and not want to run. Not that it wasn’t obvious Kenny was overly cautious when it came to the raven. It was subtle, but so obvious the blond touched Craig as if he were walking on eggshells, fingertips barely grazing skin. He shivered, remembering how intoxicating being around the blond could be.

Something had collided with the back of Craig’s head when he realized the time of day. Eric was following him to his free period again. The raven cursed under his breath, pretending the bully wasn't there and shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Ay!” Eric barked, grabbing Craig by the arm and throwing him into a nearby wall of lockers. “I was talking to you.”

“Must have been lost in translation since I don't speak fucktard,” Craig deadpanned, trying to keep Eric from seeing the panic.

“Hilarious, Craig, real funny, but let's not forget who can pound your faggy ass into the dirt,” there was a pause before the brunet broke into an evil grin. “Besides Kinny, that is- oh wait. I'm sorry, Kinny’s dead.”

“Shut up,” the raven said through clenched teeth, still cornered and still repressing an oncoming panic attack.

“How does it feel, Craig? To have someone be so disgusted with you that they kill themselves. Better than daddy hitting you and mommy running away, right?” Craig clenched his teeth, but said nothing. He could feel his whole body trembling from either anxiety or anger, he couldn’t tell what. “Are you just gonna move on like the fag whore you are? Ha, you’re more like your bitch mom than you thought, Craig. Big vagina and a-” Eric’s sentence was finished with a bony fist colliding with his own chubby jaw. A flurry of more punches, each with more power from rage, followed immediately after, slowly cutting the brunet down to size.

His ass hit the ground, Eric loosely trying to block the oncoming blows, but Craig had him pinned now. A sharp knee pressed hard into his fat chest, most of the enraged raven’s weight on said limb. Craig continued to beat the living shit out of Eric, adrenaline fueling his fit of rage, shouting was coming from both parties, a crowd had formed around them. Students cheering on Craig, filming what everyone had wanted to do for so long. Craig paused, pulling Eric up by his shirt collar, faces inches apart. “ _ You’re _ the only one who can beat  _ my _ faggy ass into the dirt?” He threw the fat boy back onto the ground, a teacher finally trying to pry the raven away from the scene. “You’re pathetic,” he spat, actually spitting in the bully’s face, before being hauled away by the faceless faculty.

“You’ll regret this, Tucker!” Eric roared from his spot still on the floor, voice dumb from a new bloody nose. “I know how to make your life hell!”

“You’re too late to the goddamn party!” Craig managed to call back before being forced to turn around and tucked into the main office.

* * *

 

Eric was taken to the nurse’s office with a broken nose, two black eyes, and a busted lip. Craig, on the other hand, was moved to a guidance office, the adrenaline finally wearing off and everything hitting him at once. He went straight into an anxiety attack, hyperventilating, crying uncontrollably, trembling so hard he could barely speak, hands scratching at his neck, arms, and face. The teacher who had taken unofficial custody of the kid was caught off guard, unsure of how to handle the outburst and dumped him on the discount Mr. Mackey. The raven was sent home with a ten day out of school suspension as his punishment. To no one’s surprise, Eric was let off with only a warning. Craig had assumed the fatass had manipulated everyone to think he was really the victim and scoffed bitterly.

Upon leaving the school, limbs numb from the overwhelming anxiety (besides the dull throbbing in his knuckles), Craig looked up to see a specific blond approaching him.


	14. Can You Feel My Heart?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you help the hopeless?  
> Well, I'm begging on my knees,  
> Can you save my bastard soul?  
> Will you wait for me?  
> I'm sorry brothers,  
> So sorry lover,  
> Forgive me father,  
> I love you mother.  
> Can you hear the silence?  
> Can you see the dark?  
> Can you fix the broken?  
> Can you feel my heart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy hell im back!!!!!! not gonna lie, my only excuse for taking so long is procrastination due to content and general laziness. fun fact, i wrote most of this in my government class ahhahaha who needs to pay attention am i right ladies? there will be one more chapter and hopefully (maybe) an epilogue. either that or i will post the epi as a seperate story, but apart of a series w this one idk. either way: almost doooneeeee :'''''''''') *actually weeping*  
> really tho, this is a heavy chapter. i do want to stress this, that this chapter is a lot and was hard to write. if you need anyone to talk to, hmu crxnny.tumblr.com (im more active there than here and will see your message sooner) anyways, gang. ily and heres the stuff  
> warnings: abuse ment, anxiety, drug/alcohol abuse, smoking, self harm ment, suicide  
> chapter title/summary: can you feel my heart by bring me the horizon

Craig was only three days into his suspension and it was already too much. Thomas found out about the fight and saw red. His daily beatings were more ruthless, more common. Moving an inch of his body hurt like hell and the raven was smoking more frequently. Kenny being no help to the heaping pile of stress on the skinny boy's shoulders. Whatever happened in those days he disappeared made the blond worse. The three days of the two together as much as possible, spent holding each other and listening to Craig whimper and whine about Kenny not leaving ever again translated into something wrong. Kenny was drinking more, getting high for longer periods of time with more dangerous substances. He was still leaving. Just, not dying. Craig was still alone, even with a pair of arms wrapped around him, the blue eyes were vacant.

The air in South Park grew thick, suffocating Craig. His “nightly issue” became more frequent, the anxiety taking a toll on his frail body. He had tried contacting Laura, his only beacon of hope, next to Ruby, but what could a young mute girl do? She did her best, but these kids weren't getting out of this mess any time soon. Only three days, and Craig felt like his body was shutting down. Three days felt like three separate lifetimes to the raven. He couldn't take much more of the torture.

His eyes stared into the clear sky, mind lost in thought. His hand mechanically made its way up to Craig's mouth, inhaling the toxic cigarette fumes, feeling himself relax slightly and drift further away in his mind. For a brief moment, the world was quiet.

A slow wave of a hand followed by a quick snapping sound drew Craig back to crushing, deafening reality. “Craig?” Kenny cocked a brow, sober for once in the past few days. “Babe, that's your third one in the past half hour, maybe you should take a break before your lungs give out on ya.”

“You're one to talk,” Craig spat, narrowing his eyes at the blond. “You've been too shitfaced to walk for days, and weren't even competent to listen to me when I fucking asked you to cut back.”

“Well, I'm sorry, but here I am. Walking just fine and not shitfaced,” Kenny held out his arms, an irritated way to show Craig he was fine. “I just don't want you going out early.”

“Like you do.” Craig's words hit the blond like venom, harsh enough to make him flinch. “Sorry not everyone is fucking blessed.”

“This is the opposite of a blessing and you fucking know that, Craig.”

“Well it would be for me!” Craig cut himself off, taking another drag of his dying cigarette. He quickly snuffed it out, and attempted to light another, shaky hands doing jack shit. Kenny snatched the lighter, chucking it across the street. “What the hell, Kenny?”

“That's enough!” the blond shouted, fists clenched. He noticed the raven flinch, but couldn't find it in him to care. “I'm sick of this.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I'm over it. I'm over you, being a whiny bitch all the time like your life is the only one that sucks. You didn't even fucking like me until we fucked in my truck! I don't even think you like me now, you're just hung up on goddamn Clyde, who's too straight and too fucking dull to have real, valid feelings for you!” Kenny huffed, face red, blue eyes glaring like daggers. His jaw clenched, keeping any hurt away from his features, covering it with anger. Craig swallowed, a lump in his throat making the act difficult. He wasn't going to cry, though. No, he was passed that. Instead, he pushed the blond, making him stumble a few steps.

“And you're not replacing me with Butters?  _ Bullshit _ ! You never shut up about the kid, always using him as an excuse! Don't do this, I'm mourning. Don't say this, it's his birthday. Don't look at me when I fuck you, I'm trying to think of someone else,” Craig poked Kenny chest, angry tears welling in his heterochromatic eyes. “News-fucking-flash, asshole, Butters is  _ dead _ and he would  _ never _ love you like this!” Craig should have saw it coming, having pushed every button Kenny owned, but he still managed to let the blond knock him off his ass in a single move.

The air settled around the two, neither saying a word. Craig held a hand over his jaw, body trembling, head lowered. Kenny breathed heavy, now standing over the raven and beginning to process what had happened, what he had just done. The blond's strained voice broke the silence, “Craig…” Kenny would never forget the terrified look in Craig's eyes. How his breath hitched and his head jerked up. He looked just like an animal, feral, scared. Kenny barely processed the way the lanky boy stood and took off, he moved so quick. Kenny chased after him, only a few blocks before tiring out. It was odd Craig never ran track with how well and fast the kid could run. Kenny placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He would make his way over, knowing Craig was going back to his house. The raven would need the alone time anyways.

* * *

 

Crag sprinted the whole way home, slamming the front door shut when he arrived, and leaning on it for only a few seconds to catch his breath.

He needed a smoke. He needed a break. He needed a way out.

Craig walked up the stairs, knowing full well the only way he'd get a break. His breath became eerily calm, a sense of tranquility washing over him. His hands still shook, still anxious for the deed that would be done, but he felt so. Sure, for the lack of a better word. So sure, in fact, he didn't notice his sister peeking out of her room, watching as he locked himself in the bathroom.

The raven sat down in the bathtub, his book bag placed next to it. He leaned against the wall and dug into its front pocket until his hand wrapped around something cold, metal, and familiar. He pulled out the x-acto knife, examining the blade carefully. An old friend of his, he thought. Craig shook his head, he sounded crazy, but it felt like a true statement. Slowly, his free hand rolled up the sleeves of his favorite blue hoodie, revealing old scars, healing cuts, and faint sharpie.

Two swift flicks of the wrist, that's all it would take, Craig pep talked himself. His stomach twisted, wondering if he should leave a note. It was too late for that, he decided, any more time and he would change his mind. Two swift flicks of the writs, that's all it took...

For a brief moment, the world was quiet.

The gentle knock on the door fell on deaf ears, Craig lost in his own head. He didn't hear it grow louder, small hands growing frantic. Palms now slapping full force, silent sobs pleading.

The only one who heard was Kenny. The quick, loud banging on a door hit him as soon as he walked in the door. He broke into a sprint, going to to source of the panic: Ruby was now throwing herself against the door, hysterical. Her head turned upon Kenny’s arrival, the fear in her eyes enough to tell him what the girl was thinking.

One swift kick by the handle was enough to open the door.

Kenny didn't even think, shoving Ruby back behind him, shielding her from the horrendous sight before them. He ripped off his parka, throwing it over her head, yelling about how she can't take it off until he said so- a habit he formed while watching over Karen -and he lunged to the boy in the bathtub. Kenny tore a piece of his shirt, pulling two long pieces off and tied them around Craig’s forearm, creating makeshift tourniquets. His next step was finding gauze in the first aid kit, tying it tightly over the wounds and snatching Craig’s cellphone out of the boy’s jacket pocket. Shaky hands punched in the four digit passcode, unlocking the device and searching for the phone application. When it was located, Kenny hurriedly, messing up a few times in the process, dialed 911, holing the cell phone to his ear in one hand, using his other to pull Craig up and cradle the boy. Kenny explained to the operator, through sobs, choking every so often, gave the address and threw the phone behind him when the call ended. "Please, please, please don't go. Craig, please stay with me," Kenny begged, only getting faint breathing in response. A hush fell, only the sounds of two children sniveling filled the air. Ruby peeked out from the parka, only seeing Kenny's back, but also the blood on his arms, the phone, the rim of the bathtub. She saw part of Craig's face; lids closed, mouth only slightly agape, as if he were asleep- the only time Craig ever looked at peace. It was chilling.

The sound of sirens and heavy boots climbing the stairs broke the hush, taking Craig away in the matter of moments. Kenny behind held back from the stretcher, the paramedics telling him, "Sir, you have to stay back!" even when climbing into the ambulance and driving away. A policeman offered a ride to the hospital, feeling bad Kenny and Ruby had no other form of transportation at the moment, which they took graciously. 

Arriving at the hospital, Craig was already in surgery. All Kenny and Ruby could do now, was wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! unfortunately, due to lack of motivation, the fic ends here. thanks for sticking with me anyways!!! you guys rock!!!!


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